The Beggar's Opera

The inspiration for the 20th-century Brecht/Weill _Threepenny Opera_, this play is a mock opera which satirizes the British upper class.
by John Gay

INTRODUCTION

BEGGAR, PLAYER.

BEGGAR. If Poverty be a Title to Poetry, I am sure no-body can dispute mine. I own myself of the Company of Beggars; and I make one at their Weekly Festivals at St. Giles's. I have a small Yearly Salary for my Catches, and am welcome to a Dinner there whenever I please, which is more than most Poets can say.

PLAYER. As we live by the Muses, it is but Gratitude in us to encourage Poetical Merit wherever we find it. The Muses, contrary to all other Ladies, pay no Distinction to Dress, and never partially mistake the Pertness of Embroidery for Wit, nor the Modesty of Want for Dulness. Be the Author who he will, we push his Play as far as it will go. So (though you are in Want) I wish you success heartily.

BEGGAR. This piece I own was originally writ for the celebrating the Marriage of James Chaunter and Moll Lay, two most excellent Ballad- Singers. I have introduced the Similes that are in all your celebrated Operas: The Swallow, the Moth, the Bee, the Ship, the Flower, &c. Besides, I have a Prison-Scene, which the Ladies always reckon charmingly pathetic. As to the Parts, I have observed such a nice Impartiality to our two Ladies, that it is impossible for either of them to take Offence. I hope I may be forgiven, that I have not made my Opera throughout unnatural, like those in vogue; for I have no Recitative; excepting this, as I have consented to have neither Prologue nor Epilogue, it must be allowed an Opera in all its Forms. The Piece indeed hath been heretofore frequently represented by ourselves in our Great Room at St. Giles's, so that I cannot too often acknowledge your Charity in bringing it now on the Stage.

PLAYER. But I see it is time for us to withdraw; the Actors are preparing to begin. Play away the Overture.

[Exeunt.]

OVERTURE

ACT I. SCENE I.

SCENE, Peachum's House.

Peachum sitting at a Table with a large Book of Accounts before him.

AIR I. An old Woman clothed in Gray, &c.

Through all the Employments of Life Each Neighbour abuses his Brother; Whore and Rogue they call Husband and Wife: All Professions be-rogue one another: The Priest calls the Lawyer a Cheat, The Lawyer be-knaves the Divine: And the Statesman, because he's so great, Thinks his Trade as honest as mine.

A Lawyer is an honest Employment, so is mine. Like me too he acts in a double Capacity, both against Rogues and for 'em; for 'tis but fitting that we should protect and encourage Cheats, since we live by them.

[Enter Filch.]

FILCH. Sir, Black Moll hath sent word her Trial comes on in the Afternoon, and she hopes you will order Matters so as to bring her off.

PEACHUM. As the Wench is very active and industrious, you may satisfy her that I'll soften the Evidence.

FILCH. Tom Gagg, Sir, is found guilty.

PEACHUM. A lazy Dog! When I took him the time before, I told him what he would come to if he did not mend his Hand. This is Death without Reprieve. I may venture to Book him [writes.] For Tom Gagg, forty Pounds. Let Betty Sly know that I'll save her from Transportation, for I can get more by her staying in England.

FILCH. Betty hath brought more Goods into our Lock to-year than any five of the Gang; and in truth, 'tis a pity to lose so good a Customer.

PEACHUM. If none of the Gang take her off, she may, in the common course of Business, live a Twelve-month longer. I love to let Women scape. A good Sportsman always lets the Hen Partridges fly, because the Breed of the Game depends upon them. Besides, here the Law allows us no Reward; there is nothing to be got by the Death of Women--except our Wives.

FILCH. Without dispute, she is a fine Woman! 'Twas to her I was obliged for my Education, and (to say a bold Word) she hath trained up more young Fellows to the Business than the Gaming table.

PEACHUM. Truly, Filch, thy Observation is right. We and the Surgeons are more beholden to Women than all the Professions besides.

AIR II. The bonny gray-ey'd Morn, &c.

FILCH. 'Tis Woman that seduces all Mankind, By her we first were taught the wheedling Arts: Her very Eyes can cheat; when most she's kind, She tricks us of our Money with our Hearts. For her, like Wolves by Night we roam for Prey, And practise ev'ry Fraud to bribe her Charms; For Suits of Love, like Law, are won by Pay, And Beauty must be fee'd into our Arms.

PEACHUM. But make haste to Newgate, Boy, and let my Friends know what I intend; for I love to make them easy one way or other.

FILCH. When a Gentleman is long kept in suspence, Penitence may break his Spirit ever after. Besides, Certainty gives a Man a good Air upon his Trial, and makes him risk another without Fear or Scruple. But I'll away, for 'tis a Pleasure to be the Messenger of Comfort to Friends in Affliction.

[Exit Filch.]

PEACHUM. But 'tis now high time to look about me for a decent Execution against next Sessions. I hate a lazy Rogue, by whom one can get nothing 'till he is hang'd. A Register of the Gang, [Reading.] Crook-finger'd Jack. A Year and a half in the Service; Let me see how much the Stock owes to his industry; one, two, three, four, five Gold Watches, and seven Silver ones. A mighty clean- handed Fellow! Sixteen Snuff-boxes, five of them of true Gold. Six Dozen of Handkerchiefs, four silver-hilted Swords, half a Dozen of Shirts, three Tye-Periwigs, and a Piece of Broad-Cloth. Considering these are only the Fruits of his leisure Hours, I don't know a prettier Fellow, for no Man alive hath a more engaging Presence of Mind upon the Road. Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will, an irregular Dog, who hath an underhand way of disposing of his Goods. I'll try him only for a Sessions or two longer upon his Good-behaviour. Harry Paddington, a poor petty-larceny Rascal, without the least Genius; that Fellow, though he were to live these six Months, will never come to the Gallows with any Credit. Slippery Sam; he goes off the next Sessions, for the Villain hath the Impudence to have Views of following his Trade as a Tailor, which he calls an honest Employment. Mat of the Mint; listed not above a Month ago, a promising sturdy Fellow, and diligent in his way; somewhat too bold and hasty, and may raise good Contributions on the Public, if he does not cut himself short by Murder. Tom Tipple, a guzzling soaking Sot, who is always too drunk to stand himself, or to make others stand. A Cart is absolutely necessary for him. Robin of Bagshot, alias Gorgon, alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias Bob Booty.

[Enter Mrs. Peachum.]

MRS. PEACHUM. What of Bob Booty, Husband? I hope nothing bad hath betided him. You know, my Dear, he's a favourite Customer of mine. 'Twas he made me a present of this Ring.

PEACHUM. I have set his Name down in the Black List, that's all, my Dear; he spends his Life among Women, and as soon as his Money is gone, one or other of the Ladies will hang him for the Reward, and there's forty Pound lost to us for-ever.

MRS. PEACHUM. You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.

AIR III. Cold and raw, &c.

If any Wench Venus's Girdle wear, Though she be never so ugly; Lilies and Roses will quickly appear, And her Face look wond'rous smugly. Beneath the left Ear so fit but a Cord, (A Rope so charming a Zone is!) The Youth in his Cart hath the Air of a Lord, And we cry, There dies an Adonis!

But really, Husband, you should not be too hard-hearted, for you never had a finer, braver set of Men than at present. We have not had a Murder among them all, these seven Months. And truly, my Dear, that is a great Blessing.

PEACHUM. What a dickens is the Woman always a whimpring about Murder for? No Gentleman is ever look'd upon the worse for killing a Man in his own Defence; and if Business cannot be carried on without it, what would you have a Gentleman do?

MRS. PEACHUM. If I am in the wrong, my Dear, you must excuse me, for no body can help the Frailty of an over-scrupulous Conscience.

PEACHUM. Murder is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of. How many fine Gentlemen have we in Newgate every Year, purely upon that Article! If they have wherewithal to persuade the Jury to bring it in Manslaughter, what are they the worse for it? So, my Dear, have done upon this Subject. Was Captain Macheath here this Morning, for the Bank-Notes he left with you last Week?

MRS. PEACHUM. Yes, my Dear; and though the Bank hath stopt Payment, he was so chearful and so agreeable! Sure there is not a finer Gentleman upon the Road than the Captain! if he comes from Bagshot at any reasonable Hour, he hath promis'd to make one this Evening with Polly and me, and Bob Booty at a Party of Quadrille. Pray, my Dear, is the Captain rich?

PEACHUM. The Captain keeps too good Company ever to grow rich. Marybone and the Chocolate-houses are his Undoing. The Man that proposes to get Money by play should have the Education of a fine Gentleman, and be train'd up to it from his Youth.

MRS. PEACHUM. Really, I am sorry upon Polly's Account the Captain hath not more Discretion. What Business hath he to keep Company with Lords and Gentlemen? he should leave them to prey upon one another.

PEACHUM. Upon Polly's Account! What, a Plague, does the Woman mean?--Upon Polly's Account!

MRS. PEACHUM. Captain Macheath is very fond of the Girl.

PEACHUM. And what then?

MRS. PEACHUM. If I have any Skill in the Ways of Women, I am sure Polly thinks him a very pretty Man.

PEACHUM. And what then? You would not be so mad to have the Wench marry him! Gamesters and Highwaymen are generally very good to their Whores, but they are very Devils to their Wives.

MRS. PEACHUM. But if Polly should be in Love, how should we help her, or how can she help herself? Poor Girl, I am in the utmost Concern about her.

AIR IV. Why is your faithful Slave disdain'd? &c.

If Love the Virgin's Heart invade, How, like a Moth, the simple Maid Still plays about the Flame! If soon she be not made a Wife, Her Honour's sing'd, and then for Life, She's--what I dare not name.

PEACHUM. Look ye, Wife. A handsome Wench in our way of Business is as profitable as at the Bar of a Temple Coffee-House, who looks upon it as her livelihood to grant every Liberty but one. You see I would indulge the Girl as far as prudently we can. In any thing, but Marriage! After that, my Dear, how shall we be safe? Are we not then in her Husband's Power? For a Husband hath the absolute Power over all a Wife's Secrets but her own. If the Girl had the Discretion of a Court-Lady, who can have a Dozen young Fellows at her Ear without complying with one, I should not matter it; but Polly is Tinder, and a Spark will at once set her on a Flame. Married! If the Wench does not know her own Profit, sure she knows her own Pleasure better than to make herself a Property! My Daughter to me should be, like a Court-Lady to a Minister of State, a Key to the whole Gang. Married! If the Affair is not already done, I'll terrify her from it, by the Example of our Neighbours.

MRS. PEACHUM. May-hap, my Dear, you may injure the Girl. She loves to imitate the fine Ladies, and she may only allow the Captain Liberties in the view of Interest.

PEACHUM. But 'tis your Duty, my Dear, to warn the Girl against her Ruin, and to instruct her how to make the most of her Beauty. I'll go to her this moment, and sift her. In the meantime, Wife, rip out the Coronets and Marks of these Dozen of Cambric Handkerchiefs, for I can dispose of them this Afternoon to a Chap in the City. [Exit Peachum.]

MRS. PEACHUM. Never was a Man more out of the way in an Argument than my Husband! Why must our Polly, forsooth, differ from her Sex, and love only her Husband? And why must Polly's Marriage, contrary to all Observations, make her the less followed by other Men? All Men are Thieves in Love, and like a Woman the better for being another's Property.

AIR V. Of all the simple Things we do, &c.

A Maid is like the Golden Ore, Which hath Guineas intrinsical in't, Whose Worth is never known before It is try'd and imprest in the Mint. A Wife's like a Guinea in Gold, Stampt with the Name of her Spouse; Now here, now there; is bought, or is sold; And is current in every House.

[Enter Filch.]

MRS. PEACHUM. Come hither, Filch. I am as fond of this Child, as though my Mind misgave me he were my own. He hath as fine a Hand at picking a Pocket as a Woman, and is as nimble-finger'd as a Juggler. If an unlucky Session does not cut the Rope of thy Life, I pronounce, Boy, thou wilt be a great Man in History. Where was your Post last Night, my Boy?

FILCH. I ply'd at the Opera, Madam; and considering 'twas neither dark nor rainy, so that there was no great Hurry in getting Chairs and Coaches, made a tolerable Hand on't. These seven Handkerchiefs, Madam.

MRS. PEACHUM. Colour'd ones, I see. They are of sure Sale from our Warehouse at Redriff among the Seamen.

FILCH. And this Snuff-box.

MRS. PEACHUM. Set in Gold! A pretty Encouragement this to a young Beginner.

FILCH. I had a fair Tug at a charming Gold Watch. Pox take the Tailors for making the Fobs so deep and narrow! It stuck by the way, and I was forc'd to make my Escape under a Coach. Really, Madam, I fear I shall be cut off in the Flower of my Youth, so that every now and then (since I was pumpt) I have Thoughts of taking up and going to Sea.

MRS. PEACHUM. You should go to Hockley in the Hole, and to Marybone, Child, to learn Valour. These are the Schools that have bred so many brave Men. I thought, Boy, by this time, thou hadst lost Fear as well as Shame. Poor Lad! how little does he know as yet of the Old Baily! For the first Fact I'll insure thee from being hang'd; and going to Sea, Filch, will come time enough upon a Sentence of Transportation. But now, since you have nothing better to do, ev'n go to your Book, and learn your Catechism; for really a Man makes but an ill Figure in the Ordinary's Paper, who cannot give a satisfactory Answer to his Questions. But, hark you, my Lad. Don't tell me a Lye; for you know I hate a Liar. Do you know of anything that hath pass'd between Captain Macheath and our Polly?

FILCH. I beg you, Madam, don't ask me; for I must either tell a Lye to you or to Miss Polly; for I promis'd her I would not tell.

MRS. PEACHUM. But when the Honour of our Family is concern'd -

FILCH. I shall lead a sad Life with Miss Polly, if ever she comes to know that I told you. Besides, I would not willingly forfeit my own Honour by betraying any body.

MRS. PEACHUM. Yonder comes my Husband and Polly. Come, Filch, you shall go with me into my own Room, and tell me the whole Story. I'll give thee a Glass of a most delicious Cordial that I keep for my own drinking.

[Exeunt.]

[Enter Peachum, Polly.]

POLLY. I know as well as any of the fine Ladies how to make the most of myself and of my Man too. A Woman knows how to be mercenary, though she hath never been in a Court or at an Assembly. We have it in our Natures, Papa. If I allow Captain Macheath some trifling Liberties, I have this Watch and other visible Marks of his Favour to shew for it. A Girl who cannot grant some Things, and refuse what is most material, will make but a poor hand of her Beauty, and soon be thrown upon the Common.

AIR VI. What shall I do to shew how much I love her, &c.

Virgins are like the fair Flower in its Lustre, Which in the Garden enamels the Ground; Near it the Bees in play flutter and cluster, And gaudy Butterflies frolick around. But, when once pluck'd, 'tis no longer alluring, To Covent-Garden 'tis sent (as yet sweet), There fades, and shrinks, and grows past all enduring, Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet.

PEACHUM. You know, Polly, I am not against your toying and trifling with a Customer in the way of Business, or to get out a Secret, or so. But if I find out that you have play'd the Fool and are married, you Jade you, I'll cut your Throat, Hussy. Now you know my Mind.

[Enter Mrs. Peachum, in a very great Passion.]

AIR VII. Oh London is a fine Town.

Our Polly is a sad Slut! nor heeds what we have taught her. I wonder any Man alive will ever rear a Daughter! For she must have both Hoods and Gowns, and Hoops to swell her Pride, With Scarfs and Stays, and Gloves and Lace; and she will have Men beside; And when she's drest with Care and Cost, all tempting, fine and gay, As Men should serve a Cucumber, she flings herself away. Our Polly is a sad Slut! &c.

You Baggage! you Hussy! you inconsiderate Jade! had you been hang'd, it would not have vex'd me, for that might have been your Misfortune; but to do such a mad thing by Choice; The Wench is married, Husband.

PEACHUM. Married! the Captain is a bold Man, and will risk any thing for Money; to be sure he believes her a Fortune. Do you think your Mother and I should have liv'd comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!

MRS. PEACHUM. I knew she was always a proud Slut; and now the Wench hath play'd the Fool and Married, because forsooth she would do like the Gentry. Can you support the Expence of a Husband, Hussy, in Gaming, Drinking and Whoring? Have you Money enough to carry on the daily Quarrels of Man and Wife about who shall squander most? There are not many Husbands and Wives, who can bear the Charges of plaguing one another in a handsom way. If you must be married, could you introduce no body into our Family but a Highwayman? Why, thou foolish Jade, thou wilt be as ill-us'd, and as much neglected, as if thou hadst married a Lord!

PEACHUM. Let not your Anger, my Dear, break through the Rules of Decency, for the Captain looks upon himself in the Military Capacity, as a Gentleman by his Profession. Besides what he hath already, I know he is in a fair way of getting, or of dying; and both these ways, let me tell you, are most excellent Chances for a Wife. Tell me, Hussy, are you ruin'd or no?

MRS. PEACHUM. With Polly's Fortune, she might very well have gone off to a Person of Distinction. Yes, that you might, you pouting Slut!

PEACHUM. What is the Wench dumb? Speak, or I'll make you plead by squeezing out an Answer from you. Are you really bound Wife to him, or are you only upon liking? [Pinches her.]

POLLY. Oh! [Screaming.]

MRS. PEACHUM. How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handsom Daughters! Locks, Bolts, Bars, and Lectures of Morality are nothing to them: They break through them all. They have as much Pleasure in cheating a Father and Mother, as in cheating at Cards.

PEACHUM. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are married, by Macheath's keeping from our House.

AIR VIII. Grim King of the Ghosts, &c.

POLLY. Can Love be control'd by Advice? Will Cupid our Mothers obey? Though my Heart were as frozen as Ice, At his Flame 'twould have melted away. When he kist me so closely he prest, 'Twas so sweet that I must have comply'd: So I thought it both safest and best To marry, for fear you should chide.

MRS. PEACHUM. Then all the Hopes of our Family are gone for ever and ever!

PEACHUM. And Macheath may hang his Father and Mother-in-law, in hope to get into their Daughter's Fortune.

POLLY. I did not marry him (as 'tis the Fashion) coolly and deliberately for Honour or Money. But, I love him.

MRS. PEACHUM. Love him! worse and worse! I thought the Girl had been better bred. Oh Husband, Husband! her Folly makes me mad! my Head swims! I'm distracted! I can't support myself--Oh! [Faints.]

PEACHUM. See, Wench, to what a Condition you have reduc'd your poor Mother! a Glass of Cordial, this instant. How the poor Woman takes it to heart!

[Polly goes out, and returns with it.]

Ah, Hussy, now this is the only Comfort your Mother has left!

POLLY. Give her another Glass, Sir! my Mama drinks double the Quantity whenever she is out of Order. This, you see, fetches her.

MRS. PEACHUM. The Girl shews such a Readiness, and so much Concern, that I could almost find in my Heart to forgive her.

AIR IX. O Jenny, O Jenny, where hast thou been.

POLLY. O Polly, you might have toy'd and kist. By keeping Men off, you keep them on. But he so teaz'd me, And he so pleas'd me, What I did, you must have done.

MRS. PEACHUM. Not with a Highwayman.--You sorry Slut!

PEACHUM. A Word with you, Wife. 'Tis no new thing for a Wench to take Man without Consent of Parents. You know 'tis the Frailty of Women, my Dear.

MRS. PEACHUM. Yes, indeed, the Sex is frail. But the first time a Woman is frail, she should be somewhat nice methinks, for then or never is the time to make her Fortune. After that, she hath nothing to do but to guard herself from being found out, and she may do what she pleases.

PEACHUM. Make yourself a little easy; I have a Thought shall soon set all Matters again to rights. Why so melancholy, Polly? since what is done cannot be undone, we must all endeavour to make the best of it.

MRS. PEACHUM. Well, Polly; as far as one Woman can forgive another, I forgive thee.--Your Father is too fond of you, Hussy.

POLLY. Then all my Sorrows are at an end.

MRS. PEACHUM. A mighty likely Speech in troth, for a Wench who is just married!

AIR X. Thomas, I cannot, &c.

POLLY. I, like a Ship in Storms, was tost; Yet afraid to put in to Land: For seiz'd in the Port the Vessel's lost, Whose Treasure is contreband. The Waves are laid, My Duty's paid. O Joy beyond Expression! Thus, safe a-shore, I ask no more, My All is in my Possession.

PEACHUM. I hear Customers in t'other Room: Go, talk with 'em, Polly; but come to us again, as soon as they are gone.--But, hark ye, Child, if 'tis the Gentleman who was here Yesterday about the Repeating Watch; say, you believe we can't get Intelligence of it 'till to-morrow. For I lent it to Suky Straddle, to make a figure with it to-night at a Tavern in Drury-Lane. If t'other Gentleman calls for the Silver-hilted Sword; you know Beetle-brow'd Jemmy hath it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge 'till Tuesday Night; so that it cannot be had 'till then.

[Exit Polly.]

PEACHUM. Dear Wife, be a little pacified, Don't let your Passion run away with your Senses. Polly, I grant you, hath done a rash thing.

MRS. PEACHUM. If she had only an Intrigue with the Fellow, why the very best Families have excus'd and huddled up a Frailty of that sort. 'Tis Marriage, Husband, that makes it a Blemish.

PEACHUM. But Money, Wife, is the true Fuller's Earth for Reputations, there is not a Spot or a Stain but what it can take out. A rich Rogue now-a-days is fit Company for any Gentleman; and the World, my Dear, hath not such a Contempt for Roguery as you imagine. I tell you, Wife, I can make this Match turn to our Advantage.

MRS. PEACHUM. I am very sensible, Husband, that Captain Macheath is worth Money, but I am in doubt whether he hath not two or three Wives already, and then if he should die in a Session or two, Polly's Dower would come into Dispute.

PEACHUM. That, indeed, is a Point which ought to be consider'd.

AIR XI. A Soldier and a Sailor.

A Fox may steal your Hens, Sir, A Whore your Health and Pence, Sir, Your Daughter rob your Chest, Sir, Your Wife may steal your Rest, Sir. A Thief your Goods and Plate. But this is all but picking, With Rest, Pence, Chest and Chicken; It ever was decreed, Sir, If Lawyer's Hand is fee'd, Sir, He steals your whole Estate.

The Lawyers are bitter Enemies to those in our Way. They don't care that any body should get a clandestine Livelihood but themselves.

[Enter Polly.]

POLLY. 'Twas only Nimming Ned. He brought in a Damask Window- Curtain, a Hoop-Petticoat, a pair of Silver Candlesticks, a Periwig, and one Silk Stocking, from the Fire that happen'd last Night.

PEACHUM. There is not a Fellow that is cleverer in his way, and saves more Goods out of the Fire than Ned. But now, Polly, to your Affair; for Matters must not be left as they are. You are married then, it seems?

POLLY. Yes, Sir.

PEACHUM. And how do you propose to live, Child?

POLLY. Like other Women, Sir, upon the Industry of my Husband.

MRS. PEACHUM. What, is the Wench turn'd Fool? A Highwayman's Wife, like a Soldier's, hath as little of his Pay, as of his Company.

PEACHUM. And had not you the common Views of a Gentlewoman in your Marriage, Polly?

POLLY. I don't know what you mean, Sir.

PEACHUM. Of a Jointure, and of being a Widow.

POLLY. But I love him, Sir; how then could I have Thoughts of parting with him?

PEACHUM. Parting with him! Why, this is the whole Scheme and Intention of all Marriage-Articles. The comfortable Estate of Widow- hood, is the only Hope that keeps up a Wife's Spirits. Where is the Woman who would scruple to be a Wife, if she had it in her Power to be a Widow, whenever she pleas'd? If you have any Views of this sort, Polly, I shall think the Match not so very unreasonable.

POLLY. How I dread to hear your Advice! Yet I must beg you to explain yourself.

PEACHUM. Secure what he hath got, have him peach'd the next Sessions, and then at once you are made a rich Widow.

POLLY. What, murder the Man I love! The Blood runs cold at my Heart with the very thought of it.

PEACHUM. Fie, Polly! What hath Murder to do in the Affair? Since the thing sooner or later must happen, I dare say, the Captain himself would like that we should get the Reward for his Death sooner than a Stranger. Why, Polly, the Captain knows, that as 'tis his Employment to rob, so 'tis ours to take Robbers; every Man in his Business. So that there is no Malice in the Case.

MRS. PEACHUM. Ay, Husband, now you have nick'd the Matter. To have him peach'd is the only thing could ever make me forgive her.

AIR XII. Now ponder well, ye Parents dear.

POLLY. O ponder well! be not severe; So save a wretched Wife! For on the Rope that hangs my Dear Depends poor Polly's Life.

MRS. PEACHUM. But your Duty to your Parents, Hussy, obliges you to hang him. What would many a Wife give for such an Opportunity!

POLLY. What is a Jointure, what is Widow-hood to me? I know my Heart. I cannot survive him.

AIR XIII. Le printems rapelle aux armes.

The Turtle thus with plaintive Crying, Her Lover dying, The Turtle thus with plaintive Crying, Laments her Dove. Down she drops quite spent with Sighing. Pair'd in Death, as pair'd in Love.

Thus, Sir, it will happen to your poor Polly.

MRS. PEACHUM. What, is the Fool in Love in earnest then? I hate thee for being particular: Why, Wench, thou art a Shame to thy very Sex.

POLLY. But hear me, Mother.--If you ever lov'd -

MRS. PEACHUM. Those cursed Play-Books she reads have been her Ruin. One Word more, Hussy, and I shall knock your Brains out, if you have any.

PEACHUM. Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of Mischief, and consider of what is proposed to you.

MRS. PEACHUM. Away, Hussy. Hang your Husband, and be dutiful.

[Exit Polly.]

[Re-enter Polly, and listens behind column.]

MRS. PEACHUM. The Thing, Husband, must and shall be done. For the sake of Intelligence we must take other measures, and have him peached the next Session without her Consent. If she will not know her Duty, we know ours.

PEACHUM. But really, my Dear, it grieves one's Heart to take off a great Man. When I consider his Personal Bravery, his fine Stratagem, how much we have already got by him, and how much more we may get, methinks I can't find in my Heart to have a hand in his Death. I wish you could have made Polly undertake it.

MRS. PEACHUM. But in a Case of Necessity--our own Lives are in danger.

PEACHUM. Then, indeed, we must comply with the Customs of the World, and make Gratitude give way to Interest.--He shall be taken off.

MRS. PEACHUM. I'll undertake to manage Polly.

PEACHUM. And I'll prepare Matters for the Old-Baily.

[Exeunt severally.]

POLLY. Now I'm a Wretch, indeed.--Methinks I see him already in the Cart, sweeter and more lovely than the Nosegay in his Hand!--I hear the Crowd extolling his Resolution and Intrepidity!--What Vollies of Sighs are sent from the Windows of Holborn, that so comely a Youth should be brought to Disgrace!--I see him at the Tree! The whole Circle are in Tears!--even Butchers weep!--Jack Ketch himself hesitates to perform his Duty, and would be glad to lose his Fee, by a Reprieve. What then will become of Polly!--As yet I may inform him of their Design, and aid him in his Escape.--It shall be so--But then he flies, absents himself, and I bar myself from his dear dear Conversation! That too will distract me.--If he keep out of the way, my Papa and Mama may in time relent, and we may be happy.--If he stays, he is hang'd, and then he is lost for ever!--He intended to lie conceal'd in my Room, 'till the Dusk of the Evening: If they are abroad I'll this Instant let him out, lest some Accident should prevent him.

[Exit, and returns with Macheath.]

Macheath.

AIR XIV. Pretty Parrot, say -

MACHEATH. Pretty Polly, say, When I was away, Did your fancy never stray To some newer Lover? POLLY. Without Disguise, Heaving Sighs, Doting Eyes, My constant Heart discover. Fondly let me loll! MACHEATH. O pretty, pretty Poll.

POLLY. And are YOU as fond as ever, my Dear?

MACHEATH. Suspect my Honour, my Courage, suspect any thing but my Love.--May my Pistols miss Fire, and my Mare slip her Shoulder while I am pursu'd, if I ever forsake thee!

POLLY. Nay, my Dear, I have no Reason to doubt you, for I find in the Romance you lent me, none of the great Heroes were ever false in Love.

AIR XV. Pray, Fair one, be kind -

MACHEATH. My Heart was so free, It rov'd like the Bee, 'Till Polly my Passion requited; I sipt each Flower, I chang'd every Hour, But here every Flower is united.

POLLY. Were you sentenc'd to Transportation, sure, my Dear, you could not leave me behind you--could you?

MACHEATH. Is there any Power, any Force that could tear me from thee? You might sooner tear a Pension out of the Hands of a Courtier, a Fee from a Lawyer, a pretty Woman from a Looking-glass, or any Woman from Quadrille.--But to tear me from thee is impossible!

AIR XVI. Over the Hills and far away.

Were I laid on Greenland's Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass. POLLY. Were I sold on Indian Soil, Soon as the burning Day was clos'd, I could mock the sultry Toil When on my Charmer's Breast repos'd. MACHEATH. And I would love you all the Day, POLLY. Every Night would kiss and play, MACHEATH. If with me you'd fondly stray POLLY. Over the Hills and far away.

POLLY. Yes, I would go with thee. But oh!--how shall I speak it? I must be torn from thee. We must part.

MACHEATH. How! Part!

POLLY. We must, we must.--My Papa and Mama are set against thy Life. They now, even now are in Search after thee. They are preparing Evidence against thee. Thy Life depends upon a moment.

AIR XVII. Gin thou wert mine awn thing -

Oh what Pain it is to part! Can I leave thee, can I leave thee? O what pain it is to part! Can thy Polly ever leave thee? But lest Death my Love should thwart, And bring thee to the fatal Cart, Thus I tear thee from my bleeding Heart! Fly hence, and let me leave thee.

One Kiss and then--one Kiss--be gone--farewel.

MACHEATH. My Hand, my Heart, my Dear, is so riveted to thine, that I cannot unloose my Hold.

POLLY. But my Papa may intercept thee, and then I should lose the very glimmering of Hope. A few Weeks, perhaps, may reconcile us all. Shall thy Polly hear from thee?

MACHEATH. Must I then go?

POLLY. And will not Absence change your Love?

MACHEATH. If you doubt it, let me stay--and be hang'd.

POLLY. O how I fear! how I tremble!--Go--but when Safety will give you leave, you will be sure to see me again; for 'till then Polly is wretched.

AIR XVIII. O the Broom, &c.

MACHEATH. The Miser thus a Shilling sees, Which he's oblig'd to pay, With sighs resigns it by degrees, And fears 'tis gone for ay.

[Parting, and looking back at each other with fondness; he at one Door, she at the other.]

POLLY. The Boy, thus, when his Sparrow's flown, The Bird in Silence eyes; But soon as out of Sight 'tis gone, Whines, whimpers, sobs and cries.

ACT II. SCENE I.

A tavern near Newgate.

Jemmy Twitcher, Crook-finger'd Jack, Wat Dreary, Robin of Bagshot, Nimming Ned, Henry Paddington, Matt of the Mint, Ben Budge, and the rest of the Gang, at the Table, with Wine, Brandy and Tobacco.

BEN. But pr'ythee, Matt, what is become of thy Brother Tom? I have not seen him since my Return from Transportation.

MATT. Poor Brother Tom had an Accident this time Twelve-month, and so clever a made fellow he was, that I could not save him from those fleaing Rascals the Surgeons; and now, poor Man, he is among the Otamys at Surgeons Hall.

BEN. So it seems, his Time was come.

JEMMY. But the present Time is ours, and no body alive hath more. Why are the Laws levell'd at us? are we more dishonest than the rest of Mankind? What we win, Gentlemen, is our own by the Law of Arms, and the Right of Conquest.

CROOK. Where shall we find such another Set of Practical Philosophers, who to a Man are above the Fear of Death?

WAT. Sound Men, and true!

ROBIN. Of try'd Courage, and indefatigable Industry!

NED. Who is there here that would not die for his Friend?

HARRY. Who is there here that would betray him for his Interest?

MATT. Shew me a Gang of Courtiers that can say as much.

BEN. We are for a just Partition of the World, for every Man hath a Right to enjoy Life.

MATT. We retrench the Superfluities of Mankind. The World is avaritious, and I hate Avarice. A covetous fellow, like a Jackdaw, steals what he was never made to enjoy, for the sake of hiding it. These are the Robbers of Mankind, for Money was made for the Free- hearted and Generous, and where is the Injury of taking from another, what he hath not the Heart to make use of?

JEMMY. Our several Stations for the Day are fixt. Good luck attend us all. Fill the Glasses.

AIR XIX. Fill every Glass, &c.

MATT. Fill every Glass, for Wine inspires us, And fires us With Courage, Love and Joy. Women and Wine should life employ. Is there ought else on Earth desirous? CHORUS. Fill every Glass, &c.

[To them enter Macheath.]

MACHEATH. Gentlemen, well met. My Heart hath been with you this Hour; but an unexpected Affair hath detain'd me. No Ceremony, I beg you.

MATT. We were just breaking up to go upon Duty. Am I to have the Honour of taking the Air with you, Sir, this Evening upon the Heath? I drink a Dram now and then with the Stagecoachmen in the way of Friendship and Intelligence; and I know that about this Time there will be Passengers upon the Western Road, who are worth speaking with.

MACHEATH. I was to have been of that Party--but -

MATT. But what, Sir?

MACHEATH. Is there any Man who suspects my Courage?

MATT. We have all been Witnesses of it.

MACHEATH. My Honour and Truth to the Gang?

MATT. I'll be answerable for it.

MACHEATH. In the Division of our Booty, have I ever shewn the least Marks of Avarice or Injustice?

MATT. By these Questions something seems to have ruffled you. Are any of us suspected?

MACHEATH. I have a fixed Confidence, Gentlemen, in you all, as Men of Honour, and as such I value and respect you. Peachum is a Man that is useful to us.

MATT. Is he about to play us any foul Play? I'll shoot him through the Head.

MACHEATH. I beg you, Gentlemen, act with Conduct and Discretion. A Pistol is your last Resort.

MATT. He knows nothing of this Meeting.

MACHEATH. Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the World, and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and 'till it is accommodated I shall be oblig'd to keep out of his way. Any private Dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my Friends. You must continue to act under his Direction, for the moment we break loose from him, our Gang is ruin'd.

MATT. As a Bawd to a Whore, I grant you, he is to us of great Convenience.

MACHEATH. Make him believe I have quitted the Gang, which I can never do but with Life. At our private Quarters I will continue to meet you. A Week or so will probably reconcile us.

MATT. Your Instructions shall be observ'd. 'Tis now high time for us to repair to our several Duties; so 'till the Evening at our Quarters in Moor-Fields we bid you farewel.

MACHEATH. I shall wish myself with you. Success attend you.

[Sits down melancholy at the Table.]

AIR XX. March in Rinaldo, with Drums and Trumpets.

MATT. Let us take the Road. Hark! I hear the Sound of Coaches! The Hour of Attack approaches, To your Arms, brave Boys, and load. See the Ball I hold! Let the Chymists toil like Asses, Our Fire their Fire surpasses, And turns all our Lead to Gold.

[The Gang, rang'd in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick them under their Girdles; then go off singing the first Part in Chorus.]

MACHEATH. What a Fool is a fond Wench! Polly is most confoundedly bit.--I love the Sex. And a Man who loves Money, might as well be contented with one Guinea, as I with one Woman. The Town perhaps have been as much obliged to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted Ladies, as to any Recruiting Officer in the Army. If it were not for us, and the other Gentlemen of the Sword, Drury-Lane would be uninhabited.

AIR XXI. Would you have a young Virgin, &c.

If the Heart of a Man is deprest with Cares, The Mist is dispell'd when a Woman appears; Like the Notes of a Fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the Spirits, and charms our Ears, Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose, But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those. Press her, Caress her, With Blisses, Her Kisses Dissolve us in Pleasure, and soft Repose.

I must have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not so strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer--[Enter Drawer.] Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies according to my Directions?

DRAWER. I expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you sent him as far as Hockley in the Hole for three of the Ladies, for one in Vinegar-Yard, and for the rest of them somewhere about Lewkner's- Lane. Sure some of them are below, for I hear the Bar-Bell. As they come I will shew them up. Coming, Coming.

[Enter Mrs. Coaxer, Dolly Trull, Mrs. Vixen, Betty Doxy, Jenny Diver, Mrs. Slammekin, Suky Tawdry, and Molly Brazen.]

MACHEATH. Dear Mrs. Coaxer, you are welcome. You look charmingly to-day. I hope you don't want the Repairs of Quality, and lay on Paint.--Dolly Trull! kiss me, you Slut; are you as amorous as ever, Hussy? You are always so taken up with stealing Hearts, that you don't allow yourself Time to steal any thing else.--Ah Dolly, thou wilt ever be a Coquette! Mrs. Vixen, I'm yours, I always lov'd a Woman of Wit and Spirit; they make charming Mistresses, but plaguy Wives--Betty Doxy! Come hither, Hussy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better stick to good wholesom Beer; for in troth, Betty, Strong-Waters will in time ruin your Constitution. You should leave those to your Betters.--What! and my pretty Jenny Diver too! As prim and demure as ever! There is not any Prude, though ever so high bred, hath a more sanctify'd Look, with a more mischievous Heart. Ah! thou art a dear artful Hypocrite.--Mrs. Slammekin! as careless and genteel as ever! all you fine Ladies, who know your own Beauty, affect an Undress.--But see, here's Suky Tawdry come to contradict what I was saying. Every thing she gets one way she lays out upon her Back. Why, Suky, you must keep at least a Dozen Tallymen. Molly Brazen! [She kisses him.] That's well done. I love a free-hearted Wench. Thou hast a most agreeable Assurance, Girl, and art as willing as a Turtle.--But hark! I hear Music. The Harper is at the Door. If Music be the Food of Love, play on. Ere you seat yourselves, Ladies, what think you of a Dance? Come in. [Enter Harper.] Play the French Tune, that Mrs. Slammekin was so fond of.

[A Dance a la ronde in the French manner; near the end of it this song and Chorus.]

AIR XXII. Cotillon.

Youth's the Season made for Joys, Love is then our Duty, She alone who that employs, Well deserves her Beauty. Let's be gay, While we may, Beauty's a Flower, despis'd in Decay. Youth's the Season, &c.

Let us drink and sport to-day, Ours is not to-morrow. Love with Youth flies swift away, Age is nought but Sorrow. Dance and sing, Time's on the Wing. Life never knows the Return of Spring. CHORUS. Let us drink, &c.

MACHEATH. Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow. [Pays the Harper.] Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine. [Exit Harper.] If any of the Ladies choose Ginn, I hope they will be so free to call for it.

JENNY. You look as if you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Waters, but when I have the Cholic.

MACHEATH. Just the Excuse of the fine Ladies! Why, a Lady of Quality is never without the Cholic. I hope, Mrs. Coaxer, you have had good Success of late in your Visits among the Mercers.

MRS. COAXER. We have so many Interlopers--Yet with Industry, one may still have a little Picking. I carried a silver-flowered Lutestring, and a Piece of black Padesoy to Mr. Peachum's Lock but last Week.

MRS. VIXEN. There's Molly Brazen hath the Ogle of a Rattle-Snake. She rivetted a Linen-Draper's Eye so fast upon her, that he was nick'd of three Pieces of Cambric before he could look off.

BRAZEN. Oh dear Madam!--But sure nothing can come up to your handling of Laces! And then you have such a sweet deluding Tongue! To cheat a Man is nothing; but the Woman must have fine Parts indeed who cheats a Woman.

MRS. VIXEN. Lace, Madam, lies in a small Compass, and is of easy Conveyance. But you are apt, Madam, to think too well of your Friends.

MRS. COAXER. If any woman hath more Art than another, to be sure, 'tis Jenny Diver. Though her Fellow be never so agreeable, she can pick his Pocket as coolly, as if money were her only Pleasure. Now that is a Command of the Passions uncommon in a Woman!

JENNY. I never go to the Tavern with a Man, but in the View of Business. I have other Hours, and other sort of Men for my Pleasure. But had I your Address, Madam

MACHEATH. Have done with your Compliments, Ladies; and drink about: You are not so fond of me, Jenny, as you use to be.

JENNY. 'Tis not convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals. 'Tis your own Choice, and not the Warmth of my Inclination that will determine you.

AIR XXIII. All in a misty Morning, &c.

Before the Barn-Door crowing, The Cock by Hens attended, His Eyes around him throwing, Stands for a while suspended. Then One he singles from the Crew, And cheers the happy Hen; With how do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again.

MACHEATH. Ah Jenny! thou art a dear Slut.

JENNY. A Man of Courage should never put any thing to the Risk but his Life. These are the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are only fit for cowardly Cheats, who prey upon their Friends.

[She takes up his Pistol. Tawdry takes up the other.]

TAWDRY. This, Sir, is fitter for your Hand. Besides your Loss of Money, 'tis a Loss to the Ladies. Gaming takes you off from Women. How fond could I be of you! but before Company 'tis ill bred.

MACHEATH. Wanton Hussies!

JENNY. I must and will have a Kiss to give my Wine a Zest.

[They take him about the Neck and make signs to Peachum and Constables, who rush in upon him.]

PEACHUM. I seize you, Sir, as my Prisoner.

MACHEATH. Was this well done, Jenny?--Women are Decoy Ducks; who can trust them! Beasts, Jades, Jilts, Harpies, Furies, Whores!

PEACHUM. Your Case, Mr. Macheath, is not particular. The greatest Heroes have been ruin'd by Women. But, to do them Justice, I must own they are a pretty sort of Creatures, if we could trust them. You must now, Sir, take your Leave of the Ladies, and if they have a mind to make you a Visit, they will be sure to find you at home. This Gentleman, Ladies, lodges in Newgate. Constables, wait upon the Captain to his Lodgings.

AIR XXIV. When first I laid Siege to my Chloris, &c.

MACHEATH. At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure, At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure, Let me go where I will, In all kinds of Ill, I shall find no such Furies as these are.

PEACHUM. Ladies, I'll take care the Reckoning shall be discharged.

[Exit Macheath, guarded with Peachum and Constables.]

MRS. VIXEN. Look ye, Mrs. Jenny, though Mr. Peachum may have made a private Bargain with you and Suky Tawdry for betraying the Captain, as we were all assisting, we ought all to share alike.

MRS. COAXER. I think Mr. Peachum, after so long an Acquaintance, might have trusted me as well as Jenny Diver.

MRS. SLAMMEKIN. I am sure at least three Men of his hanging, and in a Year's time too (if he did me Justice) should be set down to my Account.

TRULL. Mrs. Slammekin, that is not fair. For you know one of them was taken in Bed with me.

JENNY. As far as a Bowl of Punch or a Treat, I believe Mrs. Suky will join with me.--As for any thing else, Ladies, you cannot in Conscience expect it.

MRS. SLAMMEKIN. Dear Madam -

TRULL. I would not for the World -

MRS. SLAMMEKIN. 'Tis impossible for me -

TRULL. As I hope to be sav'd, Madam -

MRS. SLAMMEKIN. Nay, then I must stay here all Night -

TRULL. Since you command me.

[Exeunt with great Ceremony.]

SCENE II. Newgate.

Lockit, Turnkeys, Macheath, Constables.

LOCKIT. Noble Captain, you are welcome. You have not been a Lodger of mine this Year and half. You know the Custom, Sir. Garnish, Captain, Garnish. Hand me down those Fetters there.

MACHEATH. Those, Mr. Lockit, seem to be the heaviest of the whole Set. With your Leave, I should like the further Pair better.

LOCKIT. Look ye, Captain, we know what is fittest for our Prisoners. When a Gentleman uses me with Civility, I always do the best I can to please him.--Hand them down I say.--We have them of all Prices, from one Guinea to ten, and 'tis fitting every Gentleman should please himself.

MACHEATH. I understand you, Sir. [Gives Money.] The Fees here are so many, and so exorbitant, that few Fortunes can bear the Expence of getting off handsomly, or of dying like a Gentleman.

LOCKIT. Those, I see, will fit the Captain better--Take down the further Pair. Do but examine them, Sir.--Never was better work. How genteely they are made!--They will fit as easy as a Glove, and the nicest Man in England might not be asham'd to wear them. [He puts on the Chains.] If I had the best Gentleman in the Land in my Custody I could not equip him more handsomly. And so, Sir--I now leave you to your private Meditations.

[Exeunt leaving Macheath solus.]

MACHEATH.

AIR XXV. Courtiers, Courtiers, think it no Harm, &c.

Man may escape from Rope and Gun; Nay, some have out liv'd the Doctor's Pill; Who takes a Woman must be undone, That Basilisk is sure to kill. The Fly that sips Treacle is lost in the Sweets, So he that tastes Woman, Woman, Woman, He that tastes Woman, ruin meets.

To what a woful Plight have I brought myself! Here must I (all Day long, 'till I am hang'd) be confin'd to hear the Reproaches of a Wench who lays her Ruin at my Door--I am in the Custody of her Father, and to be sure, if he knows of the matter, I shall have a fine time on't betwixt this and my Execution.--But I promis'd the Wench Marriage--What signifies a Promise to a Woman? Does not Man in Marriage itself promise a hundred things that he never means to perform? Do all we can, Women will believe us; for they look upon a Promise as an Excuse for following their own Inclinations.--But here comes Lucy, and I cannot get from her.--Wou'd I were deaf!

[Enter Lucy.]

LUCY. You base Man you,--how can you look me in the Face after what hath passed between us?--See here, perfidious Wretch, how I am forc'd to bear about the Load of Infamy you have laid upon me--O Macheath! thou hast robb'd me of my Quiet--to see thee tortur'd would give me Pleasure.

AIR XXVI. A lovely Lass to a Friar came, &c.

Thus when a good Housewife sees a Rat In her Trap in the Morning taken, With Pleasure her Heart goes pit-a-pat, In Revenge for her Loss of Bacon. Then she throws him To the Dog or Cat, To be worried, crush'd and shaken.

MACHEATH. Have you no Bowels, no Tenderness, my dear Lucy, to see a Husband in these Circumstances?

LUCY. A Husband!

MACHEATH. In ev'ry Respect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be said over us at any time.--Friends should not insist upon Ceremonies. From a Man of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.

LUCY. 'Tis the Pleasure of all you fine Men to insult the Women you have ruin'd.

AIR XXVII. 'Twas when the Sea was roaring, &c.

How cruel are the Traitors, Who lye and swear in jest, To cheat unguarded Creatures Of Virtue, Fame, and Rest! Whoever steals a Shilling, Through Shame the Guilt conceals: In Love the perjur'd Villain With Boasts the Theft reveals.

MACHEATH. The very first Opportunity, my Dear, (have but Patience) you shall be my Wife in whatever manner you please.

LUCY. Insinuating Monster! And so you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Polly Peachum.--I could tear thy Eyes out!

MACHEATH. Sure, Lucy, you can't be such a Fool as to be jealous of Polly!

LUCY. Are you not married to her, you Brute, you.

MACHEATH. Married! Very good. The Wench gives it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good opinion. 'Tis true, I go to the House; I chat with the Girl, I kiss her, I say a thousand things to her (as all Gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to divert myself; and now the silly Jade hath set it about that I am married to her, to let me know what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy, these violent Passions may be of ill consequence to a Woman in your Condition.

LUCY. Come, come, Captain, for all your Assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of your Power to do me the Justice you promis'd me.

MACHEATH. A jealous Woman believes every thing her Passion suggests. To convince you of my Sincerity, if we can find the Ordinary, I shall have no Scruples of making you my Wife; and I know the Consequence of having two at a time.

LUCY. That you are only to be hang'd, and so get rid of them both.

MACHEATH. I am ready, my dear Lucy, to give you Satisfaction--if you think there is any in Marriage.--What can a Man of Honour say more?

LUCY. So then, it seems, you are not married to Miss Polly.

MACHEATH. You know, Lucy, the Girl is prodigiously conceited. No Man can say a civil thing to her, but (like other fine Ladies) her Vanity makes her think he's her own for ever and ever.

AIR XXVIII. The Sun had loos'd his weary Teams, &c.

The first time at the Looking-glass The Mother sets her Daughter, The Image strikes the smiling Lass With Self-love ever after, Each time she looks, she, fonder grown, Thinks ev'ry Charm grows stronger. But alas, vain Maid, all Eyes but your own Can see you are not younger.

When Women consider their own Beauties, they are all alike unreasonable in their Demands; for they expect their Lovers should like them as long as they like themselves.

LUCY. Yonder is my Father--perhaps this way we may light upon the Ordinary, who shall try if you will be as good as your Word.--For I long to be made an honest Woman.

[Exeunt.]

[Enter Peachum and Lockit with an Account-Book.]

LOCKIT. In this last Affair, Brother Peachum, we are agreed. You have consented to go halves in Macheath.

PEACHUM. We shall never fall out about an Execution--But as to that Article, pray how stands our last Year's Account?

LOCKIT. If you will run your Eye over it, you'll find 'tis fair and clearly stated.

PEACHUM. This long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be expected that we would hang our Acquaintance for nothing, when our Betters will hardly save theirs without being paid for it. Unless the People in Employment pay better, I promise them for the future, I shall let other Rogues live besides their own.

LOCKIT. Perhaps, Brother, they are afraid these Matters may be carried too far. We are treated too by them with Contempt, as if our Profession were not reputable.

PEACHUM. In one respect indeed our Employment may be reckon'd dishonest, because, like Great Statesmen, we encourage those who betray their Friends.

LOCKIT. Such Language, Brother, any where else, might turn to your Prejudice. Learn to be more guarded, I beg you.

AIR XXIX. How happy are we, &c.

When you censure the Age, Be cautious and sage, Lest the Courtiers offended should be: If you mention Vice or Bribe, 'Tis so pat to all the Tribe; Each cries--That was levell'd at me.

PEACHUM. Here's poor Ned Clincher's Name, I see. Sure, Brother Lockit, there was a little unfair Proceeding in Ned's Case: for he told me in the Condemn'd Hold, that for Value receiv'd, you had promis'd him a Session or two longer without Molestation.

LOCKIT. Mr. Peachum--this is the first time my Honour was ever call'd in Question.

PEACHUM. Business is at an end--if once we act dishonourably.

LOCKIT. Who accuses me?

PEACHUM. You are warm, Brother.

LOCKIT. He that attacks my Honour, attacks my Livelihood.--And this Usage--Sir--is not to be borne.

PEACHUM. Since you provoke me to speak--I must tell you too, that Mrs. Coaxer charges you with defrauding her of her Information-Money, for the apprehending of curl-pated Hugh. Indeed, indeed, Brother, we must punctually pay our Spies, or we shall have no Information.

LOCKIT. Is this Language to me, Sirrah,--who have sav'd you from the Gallows, Sirrah!

[Collaring each other.]

PEACHUM. If I am hang'd, it shall be for ridding the World of an arrant Rascal.

LOCKIT. This Hand shall do the Office of the Halter you deserve, and throttle you--you Dog! -

PEACHUM. Brother, Brother--We are both in the Wrong--We shall be both Losers in the Dispute--for you know we have it in our Power to hang each other. You should not be so passionate.

LOCKIT. Nor you so provoking.

PEACHUM. 'Tis our mutual Interest; 'tis for the Interest of the World we should agree. If I said any thing, Brother, to the Prejudice of your Character, I ask pardon.

LOCKIT. Brother Peachum--I can forgive as well as resent.--Give me your Hand. Suspicion does not become a Friend.

PEACHUM. I only meant to give you Occasion to justify yourself: But I must now step home, for I expect the Gentleman about this Snuff- box, that Filch nimm'd two Nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this Hour.

[Exit Peachum.]

[Enter Lucy.]

LOCKIT. Whence come you, Hussy?

LUCY. My Tears might answer that Question.

LOCKIT. You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel, over the Fellow that hath abus'd you.

LUCY. One can't help Love; one can't cure it. 'Tis not in my Power to obey you, and hate him.

LOCKIT. Learn to bear your Husband's Death like a reasonable Woman. 'Tis not the fashion, now-a-days, so much as to affect Sorrow upon these Occasions. No Woman would ever marry, if she had not the Chance of Mortality for a Release. Act like a Woman of Spirit, Hussy, and thank your Father for what he is doing.

AIR XXX. Of a noble Race was Shenkin.

LUCY. Is then his Fate decreed, Sir? Such a Man can I think of quitting? When first we met, so moves me yet, O see how my Heart is splitting!

LOCKIT. Look ye, Lucy--There is no saving him.--So, I think, you must ev'n do like other Widows--buy yourself Weeds, and be chearful.

AIR XXXI.

You'll think ere many Days ensue This Sentence not severe; I hang your Husband, Child, 'tis true, But with him hang your Care. Twang dang dillo dee.

Like a good Wife, go moan over your dying Husband. That, Child is your Duty--Consider, Girl, you can't have the Man and the Money too-- so make yourself as easy as you can, by getting all you can from him.

[Exit Lockit.]

[Enter Macheath.]

LUCY. Though the Ordinary was out of the way to-day, I hope, my Dear, you will, upon the first Opportunity, quiet my Scruples--Oh Sir! my Father's hard heart is not to be soften'd, and I am in the utmost Despair.

MACHEATH. But if I could raise a small Sum--Would not twenty Guineas, think you, move him?--Of all the Arguments in the way of Business, the Perquisite is the most prevailing--Your Father's Perquisites for the Escape of Prisoners must amount to a considerable Sum in the Year. Money well tim'd, and properly apply'd, will do any thing.

AIR XXXII. London Ladies.

If you at an Office solicit your Due, And would not have Matters neglected; You must quicken the Clerk with the Perquisite too, To do what his Duty directed.

Or would you the Frowns of a Lady prevent, She too has this palpable Failing, The Perquisite softens her into Consent; That Reason with all is prevailing.

LUCY. What Love or Money can do shall be done: for all my Comfort depends upon your Safety.

[Enter Polly.]

POLLY. Where is my dear Husband?--Was a Rope ever intended for this Neck!--O let me throw my Arms about it, and throttle thee with Love!- -Why dost thou turn away from me?--'Tis thy Polly--'Tis thy Wife.

MACHEATH. Was ever such an unfortunate Rascal as I am!

LUCY. Was there ever such another Villain!

POLLY. O Macheath! was it for this we parted? Taken! Imprisoned! Try'd! Hang'd--cruel Reflection! I'll stay with thee 'till Death-- no Force shall tear thy dear Wife from thee now.--What means my Love?--Not one kind Word! not one kind Look! think what thy Polly suffers to see thee in this Condition.

AIR XXXIII. All in the Downs, &c.

Thus when the Swallow seeking Prey, Within the Sash is closely pent, His Consort, with bemoaning Lay, Without sits pining for th' Event. Her chatt'ring Lovers all around her skim; She heeds them not (poor Bird!) her Soul's with him.

MACHEATH. [Aside.] I must disown her. [Aloud.] The Wench is distracted.

LUCY. Am I then bilk'd of my Virtue? Can I have no Reparation? Sure Men were born to lie, and Women to believe them! O Villain! Villain!

POLLY. Am I not thy Wife?--Thy Neglect of me, thy Aversion to me too severely proves it.--Look on me.--Tell me, am I not thy Wife?

LUCY. Perfidious Wretch!

POLLY. Barbarous Husband!

LUCY. Hadst thou been hang'd five Months ago, I had been happy.

POLLY. And I too--If you had been kind to me 'till Death, it would not have vexed me--And that's no very unreasonable Request, (though from a Wife) to a Man who hath not above seven or eight Days to live.

LUCY. Art thou then married to another? Hast thou two Wives, Monster?

MACHEATH. If Women's Tongues can cease for an Answer--hear me.

LUCY. I won't.--Flesh and Blood can't bear my Usage.

POLLY. Shall I not claim my own? Justice bids me speak.

AIR XXXIV. Have you heard of a frolicksome Ditty, &c.

MACHEATH. How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear Charmer away! But while you thus teaze me together, To neither a Word will I say; But tol de rol, &c.

POLLY. Sure, my Dear, there ought to be some Preference shewn to a Wife! At least she may claim the Appearance of it. He must be distracted with his Misfortunes, or he could not use me thus.

LUCY. O Villain, Villain! thou hast deceiv'd me--I could even inform against thee with Pleasure. Not a Prude wishes more heartily to have Facts against her intimate Acquaintance, than I now wish to have Facts against thee. I would have her Satisfaction, and they should all out.

AIR XXXV. Irish Trot.

POLLY. I am bubbled. LUCY. . . . I'm bubbled. POLLY. O how I am troubled! LUCY. Bambouzled, and bit! POLLY. . . . My Distresses are doubled. LUCY. When you come to the Tree, should the Hangman refuse, These Fingers, with Pleasure, could fasten the Noose. POLLY. I'm bubbled, &c.

MACHEATH. Be pacified, my dear Lucy--This is all a Fetch of Polly's, to make me desperate with you in case I get off. If I am hang'd, she would fain have the Credit of being thought my Widow--Really, Polly, this is no time for a Dispute of this sort; for whenever you are talking of Marriage, I am thinking of Hanging.

POLLY. And hast thou the Heart to persist in disowning me?

MACHEATH. And hast thou the Heart to persist in persuading me that I am married? Why, Polly, dost thou seek to aggravate my Misfortunes?

LUCY. Really, Miss Peachum, you but expose yourself. Besides, 'tis barbarous in you to worry a Gentleman in his Circumstances.

AIR XXXVI.

POLLY. Cease your Funning; Force or Cunning Never shall my Heart trapan. All these Sallies Are but Malice To seduce my constant Man. Tis most certain, By their flirting Women oft have Envy shown. Pleas'd, to ruin Others wooing; Never happy in their own.

POLLY. Decency, Madam, methinks might teach you to behave yourself with some Reserve with the Husband, while his Wife is present.

MACHEATH. But seriously, Polly, this is carrying the Joke a little too far.

LUCY. If you are determin'd, Madam, to raise a Disturbance in the Prison, I shall be obliged to send for the Turnkey to shew you the Door. I am sorry, Madam, you force me to be so ill-bred.

POLLY. Give me leave to tell you, Madam: These forward Airs don't become you in the least, Madam. And my Duty, Madam, obliges me to stay with my Husband, Madam.

AIR XXXVII. Good-morrow, Gossip Joan.

LUCY. Why how now, Madam Flirt? If you thus must chatter; And are for flinging Dirt, Let's try who best can spatter; Madam Flirt.

POLLY. Why how now, saucy Jade; Sure the Wench is tipsy! How can you see me made [To him.] The Scoff of such a Gipsy? Saucy Jade! [To her.]

[Enter Peachum.]

PEACHUM. Where's my Wench? Ah Hussy! Hussy!--Come you home, you Slut; and when your Fellow is hang'd, hang yourself, to make your Family some Amends.

POLLY. Dear, dear Father, do not tear me from him--I must speak; I have more to say to him--Oh! twist thy Fetters about me, that he may not haul me from thee!

PEACHUM. Sure all Women are alike! If ever they commit the Folly, they are sure to commit another by exposing themselves--Away Not a Word more--You are my Prisoner, now, Hussy.

AIR XXXVIII. Irish Howl.

POLLY. No Power on Earth can e'er divide The Knot that sacred Love hath ty'd. When Parents draw against our Mind, The True-Love's Knot they faster bind. Oh, oh ray, oh Amborah--oh, oh, &c.

[Holding Macheath, Peachum pulling her.]

SCENE III. The Same.

Lucy, Macheath.

MACHEATH. I am naturally compassionate, Wife; so that I could not use the Wench as she deserv'd; which made you at first suspect there was something in what she said.

LUCY. Indeed, my Dear, I was strangely puzzled.

MACHEATH. If that had been the Case, her Father would never have brought me into this Circumstance-- No, Lucy, I had rather die than be false to thee.

LUCY. How happy am I, if you say this from your Heart! For I love thee so, that I could sooner bear to see thee hang'd than in the Arms of another.

MACHEATH. But could'st thou bear to see me hang'd?

LUCY. O Macheath, I can never live to see that Day.

MACHEATH. You see, Lucy; in the Account of Love you are in my Debt, and you must now be convinc'd, that I rather choose to die than be another's. Make me, if possible, love thee more, and let me owe my Life to thee--If you refuse to assist me, Peachum and your Father will immediately put me beyond all means of Escape.

LUCY. My Father, I know, hath been drinking hard with the Prisoners: and I fancy he is now taking his Nap in his own Room--If I can procure the Keys, shall I go off with thee, my Dear?

MACHEATH. If we are together, 'twill be impossible to lie conceal'd. As soon as the Search begins to be a little cool, I will send to thee--'Till then my Heart is thy Prisoner.

LUCY. Come then, my dear Husband--owe thy Life to me--and though you love me not--be grateful,--but that Polly runs in my Head strangely.

MACHEATH. A moment of Time may make us unhappy for ever.

AIR XXXIX. The Lass of Patie's Mill, &c.

LUCY. I like the Fox shall grieve, Whose Mate hath left her Side, Whom Hounds from Morn to Eve, Chase o'er the Country wide. Where can my Lover hide? Where cheat the wary Pack? If Love be not his Guide, He never will come back! [Exeunt.]

ACT III. SCENE I.

Scene, Newgate.

Lockit, Lucy.

LOCKIT. To be sure, Wench, you must have been aiding and abetting to help him to this Escape.

LUCY. Sir, here hath been Peachum and his Daughter Polly, and to be sure they know the Ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born and bred in the Place all their Lives. Why must all your Suspicion light upon me?

LOCKIT. Lucy, Lucy, I will have none of these shuffling Answers.

LUCY. Well then--If I know any thing of him I wish I may be burnt!

LOCKIT. Keep your Temper, Lucy, or I shall pronounce you guilty.

LUCY. Keep yours, Sir,--I do wish I may be burnt. I do--And what can I say more to convince you?

LOCKIT. Did he tip handsomly?--How much did he come down with? Come, Hussy, don't cheat your Father; and I shall not be angry with you--Perhaps, you have made a better Bargain with him than I could have done--How much, my good Girl?

LUCY. You know, Sir, I am fond of him, and would have given Money to have kept him with me.

LOCKIT. Ah Lucy! thy Education might have put thee more upon thy Guard; for a Girl in the Bar of an Ale-house is always besieg'd.

LUCY. Dear Sir, mention not my Education--for 'twas to that I owe my Ruin.

AIR XL. If Love's a sweet Passion, &c.

When young at the Bar you first taught me to score, And bid me be free of my Lips, and no more; I was kiss'd by the Parson, the Squire, and the Sot, When the Guest was departed, the Kiss was forgot. But his Kiss was so sweet, and so closely he prest, That I languish'd and pin'd till I granted the rest.

If you can forgive me, Sir, I will make a fair Confession, for to be sure he hath been a most barbarous Villain to me.

LOCKIT. And so you have let him escape, Hussy--Have you?

LUCY. When a Woman loves; a kind Look, a tender Word can persuade her to any thing--And I could ask no other Bribe.

LOCKIT. Thou wilt always be a vulgar Slut, Lucy.--If you would not be look'd upon as a Fool, you should never do any thing but upon the foot of Interest. Those that act otherwise are their own Bubbles.

LUCY. But Love, Sir, is a Misfortune that may happen to the most discreet Women, and in Love we are all Fools alike--Notwithstanding all he swore, I am now fully convinc'd that Polly Peachum is actually his Wife.--Did I let him escape, (Fool that I was!) to go to her?-- Polly will wheedle herself into his Money, and then Peachum will hang him, and cheat us both.

LOCKIT. So I am to be ruin'd, because, forsooth, you must be in Love!--a very pretty Excuse!

LUCY. I could murder that impudent happy Strumpet: --I gave him his Life, and that Creature enjoys the Sweets of it.--Ungrateful Macheath!

AIR XLI. South-Sea Ballad.

My Love is all Madness and Folly, Alone I lie, Toss, tumble, and cry, What a happy Creature is Polly! Was e'er such a Wretch as I! With rage I redden like Scarlet, That my dear inconstant Varlet, Stark blind to my Charms, Is lost in the Arms Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot! Stark blind to my Charms, Is lost in the Arms Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot! This, this my Resentment alarms.

LOCKIT. And so, after all this Mischief, I must stay here to be entertain'd with your Catterwauling, Mrs. Puss!--Out of my Sight, wanton Strumpet! you shall fast and mortify yourself into Reason, with now and then a little handsom Discipline to bring you to your Senses.--Go.

[Exit Lucy.]

Peachum then intends to outwit me in this Affair; but I'll be even with him.--The Dog is leaky in his Liquor, so I'll ply him that way, get the Secret from him, and turn this Affair to my own Advantage.-- Lions, Wolves, and Vultures don't live together in Herds, Droves or Flocks.--Of all Animals of Prey, Man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys upon his Neighbour, and yet we herd together.-- Peachum is my Companion, my Friend.--According to the Custom of the World, indeed, he may quote thousands of Precedents for cheating me-- And shall not I make use of the Privilege of Friendship to make him a Return.

AIR XLII. Packington's Pound.

Thus Gamesters united in Friendship are found, Though they know that their Industry all is a Cheat; They flock to their Prey at the Dice-Box's Sound, And join to promote one another's Deceit. But if by mishap They fail of a Chap, To keep in their Hands, they each other entrap. Like Pikes, lank with Hunger, who miss of their Ends, They bite their Companions, and prey on their Friends.

Now, Peachum, you and I, like honest Tradesmen, are to have a fair Trial which of us two can over-reach the other.

SCENE II. A Gaming-House.

Macheath in a fine tarnish'd Coat, Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.

MACHEATH. I am sorry, Gentlemen, the Road was so barren of Money. When my Friends are in Difficulties, I am always glad that my Fortune can be serviceable to them. [Gives them Money.] You see, Gentlemen, I am not a mere Court Friend, who professes every thing and will do nothing.

AIR XLIII. Lillibullero.

The Modes of the Court so common are grown, That a true Friend can hardly be met; Friendship for Interest is but a Loan, Which they let out for what they can get. 'Tis true, you find Some Friends so kind, Who will give you good Counsel themselves to defend. In sorrowful Ditty, They promise, they pity, But shift for your Money, from Friend to Friend.

But we, Gentlemen, have still Honour enough to break through the Corruptions of the World.--And while I can serve you, you may command me.

BEN. It grieves my Heart that so generous a Man should be involv'd in such Difficulties, as oblige him to live with such ill Company, and herd with Gamesters.

MATT. See the Partiality of Mankind!--One Man may steal a Horse, better than another look over a Hedge.--Of all Mechanics, of all servile Handicrafts-men, a Gamester is the vilest. But yet, as many of the Quality are of the Profession, he is admitted amongst the politest Company. I wonder we are not more respected.

MACHEATH. There will be deep Play to-night at Marybone, and consequently Money may be pick'd up upon the Road. Meet me there, and I'll give you the Hint who is worth Setting.

MATT. The Fellow with a brown Coat with a narrow Gold Binding, I am told, is never without Money.

MACHEATH. What do you mean, Matt?--Sure you will not think of meddling with him!--He's a good honest kind of a Fellow, and one of us.

BEN. To be sure, Sir, we will put ourselves under your Direction.

MACHEATH. Have an Eye upon the Money-Lenders.--A Rouleau, or two, would prove a pretty sort of an Expedition. I hate Extortion.

MATT. Those Rouleaus are very pretty Things.--I hate your Bank Bills.--There is such a Hazard in putting them off.

MACHEATH. There is a certain Man of Distinction, who in his Time hath nick'd me out of a great deal of the Ready. He is in my Cash, Ben;--I'll point him out to you this Evening, and you shall draw upon him for the Debt.--The Company are met; I hear the Dice-Box in the other Room. So, Gentlemen, your Servant. You'll meet me at Mary- bone.

SCENE III. Peachum's Lock.

A Table with Wine, Brandy, Pipes and Tobacco.

Peachum, Lockit.

LOCKIT. The Coronation Account, Brother Peachum, is of so intricate a nature, that I believe it will never be settled.

PEACHUM. It consists indeed of a great Variety of Articles.--It was worth to our People, in Fees of different kinds, above ten Instalments.--This is part of the Account, Brother, that lies open before us.

LOCKIT. A Lady's Tail of rich Brocade: --that, I see, is dispos'd of.

PEACHUM. To Mrs. Diana Trapes, the Tally-Woman and she will make a good Hand on't in Shoes and Slippers, to trick out young Ladies, upon their going into Keeping. -

LOCKIT. But I don't see any Article of the Jewels.

PEACHUM. Those are so well known that they must be sent abroad-- You'll find them enter'd under the Article of Exportation.--As for the Snuff-Boxes, Watches, Swords, &c.--I thought it best to enter them under their several Heads.

LOCKIT. Seven and twenty Women's Pockets complete; with the several things therein contain'd; all Seal'd, Number'd, and Enter'd.

PEACHUM. But, Brother, it is impossible for us now to enter upon this Affair,--We should have the whole Day before us.--Besides, the Account of the last Half Year's Plate is in a Book by itself, which lies at the other Office.

LOCKIT. Bring us then more Liquor--To-day shall be for Pleasure--To- morrow for Business--Ah, Brother, those Daughters of ours are two slippery Hussies--Keep a watchful Eye upon Polly, and Macheath in a Day or two shall be our own again.

AIR XLIV. Down in the North Country, &c.

LOCKIT. What Gudgeons are we Men! Ev'ry Woman's easy Prey. Though we have felt the Hook, agen We bite and they betray.

The Bird that hath been trapt, When he hears his calling Mate, To her he flies, again he's clapt Within the wiry Grate.

PEACHUM. But what signifies catching the Bird, if your Daughter Lucy will set open the Door of the Cage?

LOCKIT. If men were answerable for the Follies and Frailties of their Wives and Daughters, no Friends could keep a good Correspondence together for two Days.--This in unkind of you, Brother; for among good Friends, what they say or do goes for nothing.

[Enter a Servant.]

SERVANT. Sir, here's Mrs. Diana Trapes wants to speak with you.

PEACHUM. Shall we admit her, Brother Lockit?

LOCKIT. By all means,--She's a good Customer, and a fine-spoken Woman--And a Woman who drinks and talks so freely, will enliven the Conversation.

PEACHUM. Desire her to walk in.

[Exit Servant.]

Peachum, Lockit, Mrs. Trapes.

PEACHUM. Dear Mrs. Dye, your Servant--One may know by your Kiss, that your Ginn is excellent.

MRS. TRAPES. I was always very curious in my Liquors.

LOCKIT. There is no perfum'd Breath like it--I have been long acquainted with the Flavour of those Lips--Han't I, Mrs. Dye.

MRS. TRAPES. Fill it up--I take as large Draughts of Liquor, as I did of Love.--I hate a Flincher in either.

AIR XLV. A Shepherd kept Sheep, &c.

In the Days of my Youth I could bill like a Dove, fa, la, la, &c. Like a Sparrow at all times was ready for Love, fa, la, la, &c. The Life of all Mortals in Kissing should pass, Lip to Lip while we're young--then the Lip to the Glass, fa, la, &c.

But now, Mr. Peachum, to our Business.--If you have Blacks of any kind, brought in of late; Mantoes--Velvet Scarfs--Petticoats--Let it be what it will--I am your Chap--for all my Ladies are very fond of Mourning.

PEACHUM. Why, look ye, Mrs. Dye--you deal so hard with us, that we can afford to give the Gentlemen, who venture their Lives for the Goods, little or nothing.

MRS. TRAPES. The hard Times oblige me to go very near in my Dealing.--To be sure, of late Years I have been a great Sufferer by the Parliament.--Three thousand Pounds would hardly make me amends.-- The Act for destroying the Mint, was a severe Cut upon our Business-- 'Till then, if a Customer stept out of the way--we knew where to have her--No doubt you know Mrs. Coaxer--there's a Wench now (till to- day) with a good Suit of Clothes of mine upon her Back, and I could never set Eyes upon her for three Months together.--Since the Act too against Imprisonment for small Sums, my Loss there too hath been very considerable, and it must be so, when a Lady can borrow a handsom Petticoat, or a clean Gown, and I not have the least Hank upon her! And, o my Conscience, now-a-days most Ladies take a Delight in cheating, when they can do it with Safety.

PEACHUM. Madam, you had a handsom Gold Watch of us 'tother Day for seven Guineas.--Considering we must have our Profit.--To a Gentleman upon the Road, a Gold Watch will be scarce worth the taking.

MRS. TRAPES. Consider, Mr. Peachum, that Watch was remarkable, and not of very safe Sale.--If you have any black Velvet Scarfs--they are a handsom Winter-wear, and take with most Gentlemen who deal with my Customers.--'Tis I that put the Ladies upon a good Foot. 'Tis not Youth or Beauty that fixes their Price. The Gentlemen always pay according to their Dress, from half a Crown to two Guineas; and yet those Hussies make nothing of bilking of me.--Then too, allowing for Accidents.--I have eleven fine Customers now down under the Surgeon's Hands--what with Fees and other Expenses, there are great Goings-out, and no Comings in, and not a Farthing to pay for at least a Month's Clothing.--We run great Risques--great Risques indeed.

PEACHUM. As I remember, you said something just now of Mrs. Coaxer.

MRS. TRAPES. Yes, Sir.--To be sure I stript her of a Suit of my own Clothes about two Hours ago; and have left her as she should be, in her Shift, with a Lover of hers at my House. She call'd him up Stairs, as he was going to Mary-bone in a Hackney Coach.--And I hope, for her own sake and mine, she will persuade the Captain to redeem her, for the Captain is very generous to the Ladies.

LOCKIT. What Captain?

MRS. TRAPES. He thought I did not know him--An intimate Acquaintance of yours, Mr. Peachum--Only Captain Macheath--as fine as a Lord.

PEACHUM. To-morrow, dear Mrs. Dye, you shall set your own Price upon any of the Goods you like--We have at least half a Dozen Velvet Scarfs, and all at your Service. Will you give me leave to make you a Present of this Suit of Night-clothes for your own wearing?--But are you sure it is Captain Macheath.

MRS. TRAPES. Though he thinks I have forgot him; no body knows him better. I have taken a great deal of the Captain's Money in my Time at second-hand, for he always lov'd to have his Ladies well drest.

PEACHUM. Mr. Lockit and I have a little Business with the Captain;-- You understand me--and we will satisfy you for Mrs. Coaxer's Debt.

LOCKIT. Depend upon it--we will deal like Men of Honour.

MRS. TRAPES. I don't enquire after your Affairs--so whatever happens, I wash my Hands on't--It hath always been my Maxim, that one Friend should assist another--But if you please--I'll take one of the Scarfs home with me. 'Tis always good to have something in Hand.

SCENE IV. Newgate.

LUCY. Jealousy, Rage, Love and Fear are at once tearing me to pieces, How I am weather-beaten and shatter'd with Distresses!

AIR XLVI. One Evening, having lost my Way, &c.

I'm like a Skiff on the Ocean tost, Now high, now low, with each Billow born, With her Rudder broke, and her Anchor lost, Deserted and all forlorn. While thus I lie rolling and tossing all Night, That Polly lies sporting on Seas of Delight! Revenge, Revenge, Revenge, Shall appease my restless Spirit.

I have the Rats-bane ready.--I run no Risque; for I can lay her Death upon the Ginn, and so many die of that naturally that I shall never be call'd in question.--But say, I were to be hang'd.--I never could be hang'd for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the poisoning that Slut.

[Enter Filch.]

FILCH. Madam, here's Miss Polly come to wait upon you.

LUCY. Show her in.

[Enter Polly.]

Dear Madam, your Servant.--I hope you will pardon my Passion, when I was so happy to see you last.--I was so over-run with the Spleen, that I was perfectly out of myself. And really when one hath the Spleen, every thing is to be excus'd by a Friend.

AIR XLVII. Now Roger, I'll tell thee because thou 'rt my Son.

When a Wife's in her Pout, (As she's sometimes, no doubt;) The good Husband as meek as a Lamb, Her Vapours to still, First grants her her Will, And the quieting Draught is a Dram. Poor Man! And the quieting Draught is a Dram.

I wish all our Quarrels might have so comfortable a Reconciliation.
POLLY. I have no Excuse for my own Behaviour, Madam, but my Misfortunes.--And really, Madam, I suffer too upon your Account.

LUCY. But, Miss Polly--in the way of Friendship, will you give me leave to propose a Glass of Cordial to you?

POLLY. Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Headache--I hope, Madam, you will excuse me.

LUCY. Not the greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her Closet, for her own private drinking.--You seem mighty low in Spirits, my Dear.

POLLY. I am sorry, Madam, my Health will not allow me to accept of your Offer.--I should not have left you in the rude manner I did when we met last, Madam, had not my Papa haul'd me away so unexpectedly--I was indeed somewhat provok'd, and perhaps might use some Expressions that were disrespectful.--But really, Madam, the Captain treated me with so much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deserv'd your Pity, rather than your Resentment.

LUCY. But since his Escape, no doubt all Matters are made up again.- -Ah Polly! Polly! 'tis I am the unhappy Wife; and he loves you as if you were only his Mistress.

POLLY. Sure, Madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your Jealousy.--A Man is always afraid of a Woman who loves him too well--so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.

LUCY. Then our Cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been too fond.

AIR XLVIII. O Bessy Bell.

POLLY. A Curse attend that Woman's Love, Who always would be pleasing. LUCY. The Pertness of the billing Dove, Like Tickling, is but teazing. POLLY. What then in Love can Woman do: LUCY. If we grow fond they shun us. POLLY. And when we fly them, they pursue: LUCY. But leave us when they've won us.

LUCY. Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible to be lasting.--But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own Observation.

POLLY. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I think I ought to envy you.--When I was forc'd from him, he did not shew the least Tenderness.--But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.

AIR XLIX. Would Fate to me Belinda give.

Among the Men, Coquettes we find, Who court by turns all Woman-kind; And we grant all their Hearts desir'd, When they are flatter'd, and admir'd.

The Coquettes of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other whatever can dispossess. I hear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of those.

LUCY. Away with these melancholy Reflections,--indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a Cup too low--Let me prevail upon you to accept of my Offer.

AIR L. Come, sweet Lass.

Come, sweet Lass, Let's banish Sorrow 'Till To-morrow; Come, sweet Lass, Let's take a chirping Glass. Wine can clear The Vapours of Despair And make us light as Air; Then drink, and banish Care.

I can't bear, Child, to see you in such low Spirits.--And I must persuade you to what I know will do you good. [Aside.] I shall now soon be even with the hypocrytical Strumpet. [Exit.]

POLLY. All this Wheedling of Lucy cannot be for nothing.--At this time too! when I know she hates me!--The Dissembling of a Woman is always the Forerunner of Mischief.--By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,--I'll be upon my Guard, and won't taste a Drop of her Liquor, I'm resolv'd.

[Re-enter Lucy, with Strong-Waters.]

LUCY. Come, Miss Polly.

POLLY. Indeed, Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.--You must, my Dear, excuse me.

LUCY. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, Polly, I shall take it monstrously ill if you refuse me.--Brandy and Men (though Women love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some Reluctance--unless 'tis in private.

POLLY. I protest, Madam, it goes against me.--What do I see! Macheath again in Custody!--Now every Glimm'ring of Happiness is lost.

[Drops the Glass of Liquor on the Ground.]

LUCY. Since things are thus, I'm glad the Wench hath escap'd: for by this Event, 'tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison'd.

[Enter Lockit, Macheath, Peachum.]

LOCKIT. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.--You have neither the Chance of Love or Money for another Escape,--for you are order'd to be call'd down upon your Trial immediately.

PEACHUM. Away, Hussies!--This is not a Time for a Man to be hamper'd with his Wives .--You see, the Gentleman is in Chains already.

LUCY. O Husband, Husband, my Heart long'd to see thee; but to see thee thus distracts me?

POLLY. Will not my dear Husband look upon his Polly? Why hadst thou not flown to me for Protection? with me thou hadst been safe.

AIR LI. The last time I went o'er the Moor.

POLLY. Hither, dear Husband, turn your Eyes. LUCY. Bestow one Glance to cheer me. POLLY. Think with that Look, thy Polly dies. LUCY. O shun me not--but hear me. POLLY. 'Tis Polly sues. LUCY. --'Tis Lucy speaks. POLLY. Is thus true Love requited? LUCY. My Heart is bursting. POLLY. --Mine too breaks. LUCY. Must I POLLY. --Must I be slighted?

MACHEATH. What would you have me say, Ladies?--You see this affair will soon be at an end, without my disobliging either of you.

PEACHUM. But the settling this Point, Captain, might prevent a Law- Suit between your two Widows.

AIR LII. Tom Tinker's my true Love.

MACHEATH. Which way shall I turn me--How can I decide? Wives, the Day of our Death, are as fond as a Bride. One Wife is too much for most Husbands to hear, But two at a time there's no mortal can bear. This way, and that way, and which way I will, What would comfort the one, t' other Wife would take ill.

POLLY. But if his own Misfortunes have made him insensible to mine-- A Father sure will be more compassionate--Dear, dear Sir, sink the material Evidence, and bring him off at his Trial--Polly upon her Knees begs it of you.

AIR LIII. I am a poor Shepherd undone.

When my Heroe in Court appears, And stands arraign'd for his Life; Then think of poor Polly's Tears; For Ah! poor Polly's his Wife. Like the Sailor he holds up his hand, Distrest on the dashing Wave. To die a dry Death at Land, Is as bad as a watery Grave. And alas, poor Polly! A lack, and well-a-day! Before I was in Love, Oh! every Month was May.

LUCY. If Peachum's Heart is harden'd; sure you, Sir, will have more Compassion on a Daughter.--I know the Evidence is in your Power.--How then can you be a Tyrant to me? [Kneeling.]

AIR LIV. Ianthe the lovely, &c.

When he holds up his Hand arraign'd for his Life, O think of your Daughter, and think I'm his Wife! What are Canons, or Bombs, or clashing of Swords? For Death is more certain by Witnesses Words. Then nail up their Lips; that dread Thunder allay; And each Month of my Life will hereafter be May.

LOCKIT. Macheath's Time is come, Lucy.--We know our own Affairs, therefore let us have no more Whimpering or Whining.

AIR LV. A Cobler there was, &c.

Ourselves, like the Great, to secure a Retreat, When Matters require it, must give up our Gang: And good reason why, Or, instead of the Fry, Ev'n Peachum and I. Like poor petty Rascals, might hang, hang; Like poor petty Rascals, might hang.

PEACHUM. Set your Heart at rest, Polly.--Your Husband is to die to- day.--Therefore if you are not already provided, 'tis high time to look about for another. There's Comfort for you, you Slut.

LOCKIT. We are ready, Sir, to conduct you to the Old Baily.

AIR LVI. Bonny Dundee.

MACHEATH. The Charge is prepar'd; the Lawyers are met, The Judges all rang'd (a terrible Show!) I go, undismay'd.--For Death is a Debt, A Debt on Demand.--So take what I owe. Then farewell, my Love--Dear Charmers, adieu. Contented I die--'Tis the better for you. Here ends all Disputes the rest of our Lives, For this way at once I please all my Wives.

Now, Gentlemen, I am ready to attend you.

[Exeunt Macheath, Lockit, and Peachum.]

[Enter Filch.]

POLLY. Follow them, Filch, to the Court. And when the Trial is over, bring me a particular Account of his Behaviour, and of every thing that happen'd--You'll find me here with Miss Lucy. [Exit Filch.] But why is all this Musick?

LUCY. The Prisoners, whose Trials are put off 'till next Session, are diverting themselves.

POLLY. Sure there is nothing so charming as Music! I'm fond of it to Distraction!--But alas!--now, all Mirth seems an Insult upon my Affliction.--Let us retire, my dear Lucy, and indulge our Sorrows.-- The noisy Crew, you see, are coming upon us. [Exeunt.]

[A Dance of Prisoners in Chains, &c.]

SCENE V. The Condemn'd Hold. Macheath, in a melancholy Posture.

AIR LVII. Happy Groves.

O cruel, cruel, cruel Case! Must I suffer this Disgrace?

AIR LVIII. Of all the Girls that are so smart.

Of all the Friends in time of Grief, When threatning Death looks grimmer, Not one so sure can bring Relief, As this best Friend, a Brimmer. [Drinks.]

AIR LIX. Britons strike home.

Since I must swing,--I scorn, I scorn to wince or whine. [Rises.]

AIR LX. Chevy Chase.

But now again my Spirits sink; I'll raise them high with Wine. [Drinks a Glass of Wine.]

AIR LXI. To old Sir Simon the King.

But Valour the stronger grows, The stronger Liquor we'er drinking; And how can we feel our Woes, When we've lost the Trouble of Thinking? [Drinks.]

AIR LXII. Joy to Great Caesar.

If thus--A Man can die Much bolder with Brandy. [Pours out a Bumper of Brandy.]

AIR LXIII. There was an old Woman.

So I drink off this Bumper.--And now I can stand the Test, And my Comrades shall see, that I die as brave as the Best. [Drinks.]

AIR LXIV. Did you ever hear of a gallant Sailor.

But can I leave my pretty Hussies, Without one Tear, or tender Sigh?

AIR LXV. Why are mine Eyes still flowing.

Their Eyes, their Lips, their Busses Recall my Love,--Ah must I die!

AIR LXVI. Green Sleeves.

Since Laws were made for ev'ry Degree, To curb Vice in others, as well as me, I wonder we han't better Company, Upon Tyburn Tree! But Gold from Law can take out the Sting; And if rich Men like us were to swing, 'Twou'd thin the Land, such Numbers to string Upon Tyburn Tree!

JAILOR. Some Friends of yours, Captain, desire to be admitted I leave you together.

[Enter Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.]

MACHEATH. For my having broke Prison, you see, Gentlemen, I am order'd immediate Execution.--The Sheriff's Officers, I believe, are now at the Door.--That Jemmy Twitcher should peach me, I own surpris'd me!--'Tis a plain Proof that the World is all alike, and that even our Gang can no more trust one another than other People. Therefore, I beg you, Gentlemen, look well to yourselves, for in all probability you may live some Months longer.

MATT. We are heartily sorry, Captain, for your Misfortune.--But 'tis what we must all come to.

MACHEATH. Peachum and Lockit, you know, are infamous Scoundrels. Their Lives are as much in your Power, as yours are in theirs.-- Remember your dying Friend!--'Tis my last Request.--Bring those Villains to the Gallows before you, and I am satisfied.

MATT. We'll do't.

JAILOR. Miss Polly and Miss Lucy intreat a Word with you.

MACHEATH. Gentlemen, adieu.

[Exeunt Ben Budge and Matt.]

[Enter Lucy and Polly.]

MACHEATH. My dear Lucy--My dear Polly--Whatsoever hath pass'd between us is now at an end--If you are fond of marrying again, the best Advice I can give you, is to Ship yourselves off for the West- Indies, where you'll have a fair Chance of getting a Husband a-piece, or by good Luck, two or three, as you like best.

POLLY. How can I support this Sight!

LUCY. There is nothing moves one so much as a great Man in Distress.

AIR LXVII. All you that must take a Leap, &c.

LUCY. Would I might be hang'd! POLLY. --And I would so too! LUCY. To be hang'd with you. POLLY. --My Dear, with you. MACHEATH. O leave me to Thought! I fear! I doubt! I tremble! I droop!--See, my Courage is out. [Turns up the empty Bottle.] POLLY. No Token of Love? MACHEATH.--See, my Courage is out. [Turns up the empty Pot.] LUCY. No Token of Love? POLLY. --Adieu. LUCY. --Farewell. MACHEATH. But hark! I hear the Toll of the Bell. CHORUS. Tol de rol lol, &c.

JAILOR. Four Women more, Captain, with a Child apiece! See, here they come.

[Enter Women and Children.]

MACHEATH. What--four Wives more!--This is too much--Here--tell the Sheriff's Officers I am ready.

[Exit Macheath guarded.]

[To them, Enter Player and Beggar.]

PLAYER. But, honest Friend, I hope you don't intend that Macheath shall be really executed.

BEGGAR. Most certainly, Sir.--To make the Piece perfect, I was for doing strict poetical Justice.--Macheath is to be hang'd; and for the other Personages of the Drama, the Audience must have suppos'd they were all either hang'd or transported.

PLAYER. Why then, Friend, this is a downright deep Tragedy. The Catastrophe is manifestly wrong, for an Opera must end happily.

BEGGAR. Your Objection, Sir, is very just, and is easily remov'd. For you must allow, that in this kind of Drama, 'tis no matter how absurdly things are brought about--So--you Rabble there--run and cry, A Reprieve!--let the Prisoner be brought back to his Wives in Triumph.

PLAYER. All this we must do, to comply with the Taste of the Town.

BEGGAR. Through the whole Piece you may observe such a Similitude of Manners in high and low Life, that it is difficult to determine whether (in the fashionable Vices) the fine Gentlemen imitate the Gentlemen of the Road, or the Gentlemen of the Road the fine Gentlemen.--Had the Play remained, as I at first intended, it would have carried a most excellent Moral. 'Twould have shewn that the lower Sort of People have their Vices in a degree as well as the Rich: And that they are punish'd for them.

[To them, Macheath with Rabble, &c.]

MACHEATH. So, it seems, I am not left to my Choice, but must have a Wife at last.--Look ye, my Dears, we will have no Controversy now. Let us give this Day to Mirth, and I am sure she who thinks herself my Wife will testify her Joy by a Dance.

ALL. Come, a Dance--a Dance.

MACHEATH. Ladies, I hope you will give me leave to present a Partner to each of you. And (if I may without Offence) for this time, I take Polly for mine.--And for Life, you Slut,--for we were really marry'd.--As for the rest.--But at present keep your own Secret. [To Polly.]

[A DANCE.]

AIR LXVIII. Lumps of Pudding, &c.

Thus I stand like the Turk, with his Doxies around; From all Sides their Glances his Passion confound; For Black, Brown, and Fair, his Inconstancy burns, And the different Beauties subdue him by turns: Each calls forth her Charms to provoke his Desires: Though willing to all, with but one he retires. But think of this Maxim, and put off your Sorrow, The Wretch of To-day, may be happy To-morrow. CHORUS. But think of this Maxim, &c.

Gammer Gurton's Needle

Gammer Gurton's Needle is one of the earliest comedies written in the English language. It is thought to have been produced in 1533.
anonymous

The Prologue.

As Gammer Gurton, with manye a wyde styche
Sat pesynge & patching of Hodg her mans briche
By chance or misfortune as shee her geare tost
In Hodge lether bryches her needle shee lost,
When Diccon the bedlem had hard by report
That good Gammer Gurton was robde in thyssorte,
He quyetly perswaded with her in that stound
Dame Chather deare gossyp this needle had found,
Yet knew shee no more of this matter (alas)
Then knoeth Tom our clarke whatthe Priest saith at masse
Here of there ensued so fearfull a fraye,
Mas Doctor was sent for these gossyps to staye,
Because he was Curate and estemed full wyse
Who found that he sought not by Diccons deuice,
When all thinges were tombled and cleane out of fassion
Whether it were by fortune or some other constellacion
Sodenlye the neele Hodge found by the prickynge
And drew it out of his bottocke where he felt it stickynge
Theyr hartes then atrest with perfect securytie.
With a pot of good nale they stroake vp theyr plauditie.

The fyrst Acte. The fyrst Sceane

Diccon:
Many a myle haue I walked, diuers and sundry waies
And many a good mans house haue I bin at in my daies
Many a gossips cup in my tyme haue I tasted
And many a broche and spyt, haue I both turned and basted
Many a peece of bacon haue I had out of thir balkes
In ronnyng ouer the countrey, with long and were walkes,
Yet came my foote neuer, within those doore cheekes,
To seeke flesh orfysh Garlyke Onyons or Leekes,
That euer I saw a sorte, in such a plyght
As here within this house appereth to my syght,
There is howlynge and scowlyng, all cast in a dumpe,
With whewling and pewling, as though they had lost a trump
Syghing and sobbing they weepe and they wayle
I maruell in my mynd, whatthe deuill they wayle
The olde Trotsyts groning,with alas and alas,
And Tib wringes her hands,and takes on in worse case
With poore Cocke theyr boye they be dryuen in such fyts
I feare mee the folkes be not well in theyr wyts
Aske them what they ayle, or who brought them in this staye?
They auuswer not at all,but alacke and welaway
Whan I saw it booted not out at doores I hyed mee
And caught a slyp of Bacon, when I saw that none spyed mee,
Which I intend not far hence vnles my purpose fayle
Shall serue for a shoinghorne to draw on two pots of ale.

The fyrst Acte. The second Sceane.
Hodge. Diccon.

Hodge:
See so cham arayed with dablynge in the durt
She that set me to ditchinge, ich wold she had the squrt
Was neuer poore soule that such a life had ?
Gogs bones thys vylthy glaye hase drest mee to bad
Gods soule, see how this stuffe teares
Iche were better to bee a Bearward and set to keepe Beares
By the Masse here is a gasshe, a sharnefull hole in deade
And one stytch teare furder, a man may thruste in his heade

Diccon:
By my fathers soule Hodge, if I shulde now be sworne
I can not chuse but say thy breech is foule be-torne
But the next remedye in such acaseand hap
Is to plaunche on a piece, as brode as thy cap.

Hodge:
Gogs soule man, tis not yet two dayes fully ended
Synce my dame Gurton (chem sure) these breches amended,
But cham made such a drudge to trudge at euery neede
Chwold rend it though it were stitched wyth sturdy pacthreede,

Diccon:
Hoge, let thy breeches go, and speake and tell mee soone
What deuill ayleth gammer gurton, & Tib her mayd to frowne,

Hodge:
Tush man thart deceyued tys theyr dayly looke,
They coure so ouer ye coles, theyr eyes be bleard with smooke,

Diccon:
Nay by the masse, I perfectly perceiued as
I came hether
That eyther Tib & her dame hath ben by the eares together
Or els as great a matter as thou shalt shortly see.

Hodge:
Now iche beseeche our Lord they neuer better agree.

Diccon:
By gogs soule there they syt as still as stones in the streite
As though they had ben taken with fairies or els wt some il sprite

Hodge:
Gogs hart, I durst haue layd my cap to a crowne
Chwould lerne of some prancome as sone as ich came to town.

Diccon:
Why Hodge art thou inspyred? or dedst thou therof here?

Hodge:
Nay but ich saw such a wonder as ich saw nat ths vii. yere
Tome Tannkards Cow (be gogs bones) she set me vp her saile
And flynging about his halfe aker fysking with her taile,
As thoughthere had ben in her ars a swarme of Bees,
And chad not cryed tphrowh hoore shead lept out of his Lees.

Diccon:
Why Hodg lies the connyng in Tom tankards cowes taile?

Hodge:
Well ich chaue hard some say such tokens do not fayle,
But canst yu not tell in faith Diccon, why she frownes or wher at
Hath no man stolne her Ducks or Henes, or gelded gyb her Cat

Diccon:
What deuyll can I tell man, I cold not haue one word
They gaue no more hede to my talk then thou woldst to a lorde

Hodge:
Iche can not styll but muse what meruaylous thinge it is
Chyll in and know my selfe what matters are arnys.

Diccon:
Then farewell hodge a while, synce thou doest inward hast,
For I will into the good wyfe Chats, to feele how the ale dooth taste.


The fyrst Acte. The thyrd Sceane.
Hodge. Tyb.

Hodge:
CHam agast by the masse, ich wot not what to do
Chad nede blesse me well before ich go them to
Perchaunce sonie felon sprit may haunt our house indeed,
And then chwere but a noddy to venter where cha no neede

Tib:
Cham worse then mad by the masse to be at this staye
Cham chyd cham blamd, and beaton all thoures on the daye,
Lamed and hunger storued, prycked vp all in Jagges
Hauyng no patch to hyde my backe, saue a few rotten ragges.

Hodge:
I say Tyb, if thou be Tyb, as I trow sure thou bee,
What deuyll make a doe is this betweene our dame and thee.

Tyb:
Gogsbreade Hodg thou had a good turne thou warte not here this while.
It had ben better for some of vs to haue ben hence a myle
My Gammer is so out of course, and frantyke all at ones
That Cocke our boy, & I poore wench haue felt it on our bones.

Hodge:
What is the matter, say on Tib wherat she taketh so on.

Tyb:
She is vndone she sayth (alas,) her ioye and life is gone
If shee here not of some comfort, she is sayth but dead
Shall neuer come within her lyps, one inch of meate ne bread.

Hodge:
Bur Ladie cham not very glad, to see her in this dumpe
Cholde a noble her stole hath fallen, & shee hath broke her rumpe

Tyb:
Nay and that were the worst, we wold not greatly care
For bursting of her huckle bone, or breakyng of her Chaire
But greatter greater is her grief, as hodge we shall all feele.

Hodge:
Gogs woundes Tyb, my gammer has neuer lost her Neele?

ryb:
Her Neele.

Hodge:
Her Neele?

rib:
Her neele by him that made me, it is true Hodge
I tell thee.

Hodge:
Gogs sacrament, I would she had lost tharte out of her bellie
The Deuill or els his dame, they ought her sure a shame
How a murryon came this chaunce. (say Tib) vnto our dame?

Tyb:
My gammer sat her downe on her pes, & bad me reach thy breeches
And by & by, a vengeance in it or she had take two stitches
To clap a clout vpon thine ars, by chaunce a syde she leares
And gyb our cat in the milke pan, she spied ouer head and eares
Ah hore out thefe she cryed aloud, & swapt the breches downe
Up went her staffe, and out leapt gyb, at doors into the towne
And synce that time was neuer wyght, cold set their eies vpon it
Gogs malison chaue Cocke and I, byd twenty times light on it.

Hodge:
And is not then my breches sewid vp, to morow yt I shuld were

Tyb:
No in faith hodge thy breeches lie, for al this neuer the nere.

Hodge:
Now a vengeance light on al ye sort, yt better shold haue kept it,
The cat the house, and tib our maid, yt better shold haue swept it
Se where she commeth crawling come on in twenty deuils way
Ye haue made a fayre daies worke haue you not? pray you say.


The fyrste Acte. The.iiii. Sceane.
Gammer. Hodge. Tyb. Cocke.

Gammer:
ALas hoge, alas I may well cursse and ban
This daie that euer I saw it, with gyb and the inylke pan
For these and ill lucke to gather, as knoweth
Cocke my boye
Haue stacke away my deare neele, and robd me of my boye
My fayre longe strayght neele that was myne one y treasure
The fyrst day of my sorow is, and last end of my pleasure.

Hodge:
Might ha kept it when ye had it, but fooles will be fooles styll.
Lose that is vast in your handes, ye meede not but ye will.

Gammer:
Go hie thee tib, and run thou hoore, to thend here of the towne
Didst cary out dust in thy lap, seeke wher thou porest it downe
And as thou sawest me roking, in the asshes where I morned.
So see in all the heape of dust, thou leaue no straw vnturned.

Tyb:
That chal gammer swythe and tyte, and sone be here agayne.

Gammer:
Tib stoope & loke downe to ye ground to it, & take some paine.

Hodge:
Here is a prety matter, to see this gere how it goes
By gogs soule I thenk you wold loes your ars, and it were loose
Your neele lost, it is pitie you shold lack care and endlesse sorow
Gogs deth how shall my breches be sewid, shall I go thus to morow

Gammer:
Ah hodg, hodg, if that ich cold find my neele by the reed
Chould sow thy breches ich promise ye, wt full good double threed
And set a patch on either knee, shuld last this monethes twaine
Now god & good Saint Sithe I praye, to send it home againe.

Hodge:
Wherto serued your hands & eies, but this your neele to kepe
What deuill had you els to do, ye kept ich wot no sheepe
Cham faine a brode to dyg and delue, in water, myre and claye
Sossing and possing in the durte, styll from day to daye
A hundred thinges that be abrode, cham set to see them weele
And foure of you syt idle at home, and can not keepe a neele.

Gammer:
My neele alas ich lost it hodge, what time ich me vp hasted
To saue the milke set vp for the, which gib our cat hath wasted

Hodge:
The Deuill he burst both gib, and Tib, with all the rest
Cham alwayes sure of the worst end, who euer haue the best
Where ha you ben fidging abrode, since you your neele lost

Gammer:
Withm the house and at the dore, sittmg by this same post
Wher I was loking a long howre, before these folks came here,
But welaway, all was in vayne, my neele is neuer the nere.

Hodge:
Set me a candle, let me seeke and grope where euer it bee
Gogs hart ye be so folish (ich thinke) you knowe it not when you it see

Gammer:
Come hether Cocke what Cocke I say.

Cocke:
Howe Gammer.

r:
Goe hye thee soone and grope behynd the old brasse pan,
Whych thing when thou hast done
Ther shalt thou fynd an old shooe, wher in if thou looke well
Thou shalt fynd lyeng an inche of a whyte tallow candell,
Lyght it, and brynge it tite awaye.

Cocke:
That shalbe done anone.

Gammer:
Nay tary hodg til thou hast light, and then weele seke ech one.

Hodge:
Cum away ye horson boy, are ye a slepe; ye must haue a crier.

Cocke:
Ich cannot get the candel light here is almost no fler.

Hodge:
Chi1 hold the a peny chil make ye come if yt ich may catch thine eares
Art deffe thou horson boy ? cocke I say, why canst not heares.

Gammer:
Beate hym not Hodge but help the boy and come you two togethe.


The.i.Acte The.v.Sceane
Gammer. Tyb. Cocke. Hodge

Gammer:
How now Tyb quycke lets here,what newes thou hast brought hether

Tyb:
Chaue tost and tumbled yender heap our & ouer againe
And winowed it through my fingers as men wold winow grain
No so much as a hens turd but in pieces I tare it
Or what so euer clod or clay I found, I did not spare it
Lokyng within and eke without, to fynd your neele (alas)
But all in vaine and without help, your neele is where it was.

Gammer:
A1as my neele we shall neuer meete, adue, adue for aye.

Tyb:
Not so gammer, we niyght it fynd f we knew where it laye.

Cocke:
Gogs crosse Gammer if ye will laugh looke in but at the doore
And see how Hodg lieth tomblynge and tossmg amids the floure
Rakyng there some fyre to find amonge the asshes dead
Where there is not one sparke, so byg as a pyns head,
At last in a darke corner two sparkes he thought he sees
Which were mdede nought els but Gyb our cats two eyes
Puffe quod hodg thinking therby to haue fyre without doubt
With that Gyb shut her two eyes, & so the fyre was out
And by and by them opened, euen as they were before,
With that the sparkes appered euen as they had done of yore,
And euen as hodge blew the fire as he did thincke
Gyb as she felt the blast strayght way began to wyncke,
Tyll Hodge fell of swering as came best to his turne,
The fier was sure bewicht and therfore wold not burne:
At last Gyb vp the stayers, among the old postes and pinnes,
And Hodge he hied him after till broke were both his shinnes:
Cursynge and swermg othes, were neuer of his makyng,
That Gyb wold fyre the house, if that shee were not taken.

Gammer:
See here is all the thought that the foolysh Urchyn taketh,
And Tyb me thinke at his elbowe almost as mery maketh
This is all the wyt ye haue when others make their mone,
Come downe Hodge, where art thou and let the Cat alone.

Hodge:
Gogs harte, help and come vp, Gyb in her tayle hath fyre,
And is like to burne all if shee get a lytle hier:
Cum downe (quoth you,) nay then you might count me a patch,
The house commeth downe on your heads if it take ons y thatch.

Gammer:
It is the cats eyes foole that shineth in the darke.

Hodge:
Hath the Cat do you thinke in euery eye a sparke.

Cammer:
No, but they shyne as lyke fyre as euer man see.

Hodge:
By the masse and she burne all, yoush beare the blame for mee

Gammer:
Cum downe & help to seeke here our neele that it were found
Downe Tyb on the knees I say,downe Cocke to the ground.
To God I make a vowe, and so to good Saint Anne
A candell shall they haue a peece, get it where I can,
If I may my neele find in one place or in other.

Hodge:
Now a vengeaunce on gib light, on gyb and gybs mother
And all the generacyon of Cats both far and nere
Looke on the ground horson thinks thou the neele is here.

Cocke:
By my trouth gammer me thought your neele here I saw
But when my fyngers toucht it, I felt it was a straw.

Tyb:
SeeHodgewhats thys mayitiiotbe within it,

Hodge:
Breake it foole with thy hand and see and thou canst fynde it.

Tyb:
Nay breake it you Hodge accordyng to your word.

Hodge:
Gogs sydes fye it styncks; it is a Cats tourd,
It were well done to make thee eate it by the masse.

Gammer:
This matter amendeth not my neele is still where it wasse
Our candle is at an ende let vs all in quight
And come another tyme, when we haue more lyght


The.ii. Acte. Fyrste a Songe.

Backe and syde go bare, go bare, booth foote and hande go colde:
But Bellye god sende thee good ale ynoughe, whether it be newe or olde.
I Can not eate but lytle meate, my stomacke is not good:
But sure I thmke that I can drynke with him that weares a hood.
Thoughe I go bare take ye no care, I am nothinge a colde:
I stuffe my skyn so full within, of ioly good Ale and olde.
Backe and syde go bare go bare, booth foote and hand go colde:
But belly god send the good ale inoughe whether it be new or olde.
I loue no rost but a nut browne toste and a Crab layde in the fyre,
A lytle bread shall do me stead much breade I not desyre:
No froste nor snow, no winde I trowe can hurte mee if I wolde,
I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt of ioly good ale and olde.
Backe and syde go bare &c.
And Tyb my wyfe that as her lyfe loueth well good ale to seeke,
Full ofte drynkes shee tyll ye may see the teares run downe her cheekes:
Then dooth she trowle to mee the bowle euen as a mault worme shuld,
And sayth sweete hart I tooke my part of this ioly good ale and olde.
Backe and syde go bare &c.
Now let them drynke tyll they nod and winke, euen as good felowes shoulde doe

They shall not mysse to haue the blisse, good ale doth bringe men to:
And all poore soules that haue scowred boules or haue them lustely trolde,
God saue the lyues of them and theyr wyues whether they be yonge or olde.
Backe and syde go bare &c.


The fyrst Sceane.
Diccon. Hodge.


Diccon:
Well done be Gogs malt well songe and well sayde,
Come on mother Chat as thou art true mayde.
One fresh pot of ale lets see to make an ende
Agaynst this colde wether, my maked armes to defende,
This gere it warms the soule, now wind blow on the worst,
And let us drink and swill, till that our bellies burste
Now were he a wyse man, by cunnynge colde defyne
Which way my Iourney lyeth or where Dyccon will dyne
But one good turne I haue be it by nyght or daye
South East North or west I am neuer out of my waye

Hodge:
Chym goodly rewarded, cham I not, do you thyncke?
Chad a goodly dynner for all my seate and swyncke,
Neyther butter cheese, mylke onyons fleshe nor fyshe
Saue thys poor pece of barly bread, tis a pleas costly dishe.

Diccon:
Haile fellow Hodge & well to fare wt thy meat, if yu haue any?
But by thy words as I then smelled thy damtrels be not manye.

Hodge:
Daintrels diccon (gogs soule man) saue this pece of dry horsbred,
Cha byt no byt this lyue longe daie no crome come in my hed
My gutts they yawle crawle and all my be rumbleth
The puddynges can not lye still ech one ouer other tumbleth
By gogs harte cham so vente and in my belly pende
Chould one peece were at the spittlehouse another at ye castels ende.

Diccon:
Why hodge was there none at home thy dinner for to set:

Hodge:
Godgs bread Diccon ich came to late, was nothing ther to get
Gib (a fowle feind might on her hght) lick ye milke pan so clene
See Diccon, twas not so wellwasht this .vii. yere as ich wene
A pestilence lyght on all ill lucke, chad thought yet for all thys
Of a morsell of bacon behynde the dore at worst shuld not misse,
But when ich sought a slyp to cut, as ich was wont to do
Gogs soule Diccon, gyb our Cat had eate the bacon to.

Which bacon Diccon stole, as is declared:

before.:

Diccon:
Ill luck quod he mary swere it hodg, this day ye trueth to tel
Thou rose not on thy right syde, or els blest thee not wel,
Thy mylk slopt vp thy bacon filtched, that was to bad luck hodg.

Hodge:
Nay nay ther was a fowler fault, my gammer ga me ye dodge
Seest not how cham rent & torn, my heels, my knees & my breech
Chad thought as ich sat by the fire, help here & there a stitch,
But there ich was powpte indeede.

Diccon:
Why Hodge?

Hodge:
Bootes not man to tell,
Cham so drest amonst a sorte of fooles, chad better be in hell,
My gammer (cham ashamed to say) by god serued me not weele

Diccon:
How so Hodge?

Hodge:
Bootes not man to tell,
Cham so drest amonst a sorte of fooles, chad better be in hell,
My gammer (chain ashamed to say)by god serued me not weele

Diccon:
How so Hodge?

Hodge:
Hase she not gone trowest now and lost her neele.

Diccon:
Her Eele Hodge who fysht of late? that was a damty dysh.

Hodge:
Tush tush, her neele, her neele, her neele man. Tys neyther flesh nor fysh.
A lytle thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any syller,
Small, longe, sharpe at the poynt, & straight as any pyller.

Diccon:
I know not what a deuil yu menest, yu brigst me more in doubt

Hodge:
Knowest not wt what tom tailers man, sits broching throughe a clout
A neele, neele, a neele, my gammers neele is gone.

Diccon:
Her neele Hodge, now I smel thee, yt was a chaunce alone,
By ye masse yn hadst a shamefull losse & it wer but for thy breches

Hodge:
Gogs soule man chould giue a crown chad it but iii stitches.

Diccon:
How sayest yu Hodg, what shuld he haue, again thy neele got

Hodge:
Bem vathers soule, and chad it chould giue him a new grot.

Diccon:
Canst thou keepe counsaile in this case.

Hodge:
E1s chwold my tonge were out.

Diccon:
Do thou but then by my aduise, & I will fetch it wtout doubt,

Hodge:
Chyll runne chyll ryde, chyll dygge, chyl delue, chill toyle, chill trudge
shalt see:
Chill hold chil drawe, chil pull, chill pynche chill kneele on my bare knee.
Chill scrape chill scratche, chill skte, chyll seeke, chill bowe, chill
bende, chill sweate,
Chil stoop, chil stur, chil cap chil knele, chil crepe on hands & feete,
Chil be thy bondman Diccon, ich sweare by sunne and moone
And channot sum what to stop this gap, chaiu vtterly vndone

Poinfing bchind to his torne breeches.:

Diccon:
Why, is ther any special cause, thou takest hereat such sorow

Hodge:
Kirstian Clack Tom simsons maid, bi the masse coms hether to morow
Chamnot able to say, betweene vs what may hap,
She smyled on me the last sonday when ich put of my cap,

Diccon:
Well Hodge this is a matter of weight, & must be kept close,
It might els turne to both our costes as the world now gose,
Shalt sware to be no blab Hodge.

Hodge:
Chyll Diccon.

Diccon:
Then go to,
Lay thine haud here say after me as thou shalt here me do
Haste no booke?

Hodge:
Cha no booke I.

Diccon:
Then needes must force vs both,
Upon my breech to lay thme hand, and there to take thme othe.

Hodge:
I Hodge breechele,
Sweare to Diccon rechelesse
By the crosse that I shall kysse,
To kepe his counsaile close
And alwayes me to dispose
To worke that his pleasure is.

Here he kysseth Diccons breeche.:

Diccon:
Now Hodge see thou take heede
And do as I thee byd
For so I iudge it meete,
This nedle againe to win
Thgere is no shift therin
But coniure vp a spreet.

Hodge:
What the great deuill Diccon I saye?

Diccon:
Yea in good faith, that is the waye,
Fet with some prety charme.

Hodgc:
Softe Diccon be not to hasty yet,
By the masse for ich begyn to sweat
Cham afrayde of some harme.

Diccon:
Come hether then and sturre the nat
One mche out of this Cyrcle plat
But stande as I thee teache.

Hodge:
And shall ich be here safe from theyr clawes:

Diccon:
The mayster deuill with his longe pawes
Here to thee can not reache:
Now will I settle me to this geare.

Hodge:
I saye Diccon heare me heare:
Go softely to thys matter.

Diccon:
What deuyll man art afraide of nought

Hodge:
Canst not tarrye a lytle thought
Tyll ich make a curtesie of water.

Diccon:
Stand still to it why shuldest thou fearehym?

Hodge:
Gogs sydes Diccon me thinke ich heare him
And tarrye chal mare all.

Diccon:
The matter is no worse then I tolde it,

Hodge:
By the masse cham able no longer to holde it,
To bad iche must beraye the hall.

Diccon:
Stand to it Hodge sture not you horson,
What Deuyll be thine ars strynges brusten?
Thy selfe a while but staye,
The deuill I smell hym wyll be here anone.

Hodge:
Hold him fast Diccon, cham gone, cham gone
Chyll not be at that fraye.


The .ii. Acte. The ii.
Diccon. Chat.

Diccon:
Fy shytten knaue, and out vpon thee
Aboue all other loutes fye on thee,
Is not here a clenly prancke?
But thy matter was no better
Nor thy presence here no sweter,
To flye I can the thanke:
Here is a matter worthy glosynge
Of Gammer Gurtons nedle losynge
And a foule peece of warke,
A man I thyncke myght make a playe
And nede no worde to this they saye
Being but halfe a Clarke.
Softe let me alone I will take the charge
This matter further to enlarge
Withm a tyme shorte,
If ye will marke my toyes and note
I will geue ye leaue to cut my throte
If I make not good sporte,
Dame Chat I say where be ye within?

Chat:
Who haue we there maketh such a din:

Diccon:
Here is a good fellow maketh no great daunger,

Chat:
What diccon? come nere ye be no straunger,
We be fast set at trumpe man hard by the fyre,
Thou shalt set on the king if thou come a litle nyer.

Diccon:
Nay, nay, there is no tarying: I must be gone againe
But first for you in councel I haue a word or twaine.

Chat:
Come hether Dol, Dol, sit downe and play this game,
And as thou sawest me do, see thou do euen the same
Thereis 5. trumps beside the Queene, ye hindmost yu shalt finde her
Take hede of Sim glouers wife, she hath an eie behind her,
Now Diccon say your will.

Diccon:
Nay softe a litle yet,
I wold not tel it my sister, the inatter is so great,
There I wil haue you sweare by our dere Lady of Bullaine,
S Dunstoue, and S. Donnyke, with the three Kinges of Kullaine,
That ye shal keepe it secret.

Chat:
Gogs bread that will I doo,
As secret as mine owne thought, by god aud the deuil two.

Diccon:
Here is gammer gurton your neighbour, a sad heuy wight
Her goodly faire red Cock, at home, was stole this last night.

Chat:
Gogs soule her Cock with the yelow legs, yt nightly crowed so iust?

Diccon:
That cocke is stollen.

Chat:
What was he fet out of the heus ruste?

Diccon:
I cau not tel where ye deuil he was kept, vnder key or locke,
But Tib hath tykled in Gaminers eare, that you shoulde steale the cocke

Chat:
Haue I strouge hoore? by bread aud salte.

Diccon:
What softe I say be styl.
Say hot one word for all this geare.

Chat:
By the inasse that I wyl,
I wil haue the yong hore by the head, & the old trot by ye throte

Diccon:
Not one word dame Chat I say, not one word for my cote.

Chat:
Shall such a begars brawle as yt thinkest yu make me a theefe
The pocks light on her hores sydes, a pestlence & a mischeefe
Come out thou hungry nedy bytche, o that my nails be short.

Diccon:
Gogs bred woman hold your peace this gere wil els passe sport
I wold not for an hundred pound this matter shuld be knowen,
That I am auctour of this tale or haue abrode it blowen
Did ye not sweare ye wold be ruled before the tale I tolde
I said ye must all secret keepe and ye said sure ye wolde.

Chat:
Wolde you suffer your selfe diccon such a sort, to reuile you
With slaunderous words to blot your name, & so to defile you?

Diccon:
No goodwife chat I wold be loth such drabs shulde blot my name
But yet ye must so order all, yt Diccon beare no blame.

Chat:
Go to then, what is your rede? say on your minde, ye shall mee rule herein.

Diccon:
Godamercye to dame chat, in faith thou must the gere begin
It is twenty pound to a goose turd, my gammer will not tary
But hetherward she comes as fast as her legs can her cary,
To brawle with you about her cocke, for well I hard Tib say
The Cocke was rosted in your house, to breafast yesterday,
And when ye had the carcas eaten, the fethers ye out flunge
And Doll your maid the legs she hid a foote depe in the dunge.

Chat:
0h gracyous god my harte it burstes.

Diccon:
Well rule your selfe a space
And gammer gurton when she commeth anon into thys place
Then to the Queane lets see tell her your inynd & spare not
So shall Diccon blamelesse bee, and then go to I care not.

Chat:
Then hoore beware her throte, I can abide no longer
In faith old witch it shalbe seene, which of vs two be stronger
And Diccon but at your request, I wold not stay one howre.

Diccon:
Well keepe it in till she be here, and then out let it powre,
In the meane while get you in, and make no wordes of this
More of this matter wtin this howre to here you shall not misse
Because I know you are iny freind, hide it I cold not doubtles
Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines
So fare ye well.

Chat:
Nay soft Diccon and drynke, what Doll I say
Bringe here a cup of the best ale, lets see, come quicly awaye.


The ii. Actt. The iii.Sceane.
Hodge. Diccon.

Diccon:
Ye see masters ye one end tapt of this my short deuise
Now must we broche thoter to, before the smoke arise
And by the time they haue a while run, I trust ye need not craue it,
But loke what heth in both their harts ye ar hke sure to haue it

Hodgc:
Yea gogs soule, art aliue yet? what Diccon dare ich come?

Diccon:
A man is wel hied to trust to thee, I will say nothing but inum
But and ye come any nearer I pray you see all be sweete.

Hodge:
Tush man is gammers neele found, that chould gladly weete

Diccon:
She may thanke thee it is not found, for if yu had kept thy standing
The deuil he wold haue fet it out, euen hodg at thy commaunding

Hodge:
Gogs hart, & cold he tel nothing wher the neele might be found

Diccon:
Ye folysh dolt, ye were to seek ear we had got our ground,
Therfore his tale so doubtfull was, that I cold not perceiue it.

Hodge:
Then ich se wel something was said, chope one day yet to haue it,
But diccon, diccon, did not the deuill cry ho, ho, ho,

Diccon:
If yu hadst taryed where thou stoodst, thou woldest haue said so

Hodge:
Durst swere of a boke, chard him rore, streight after ich was gon
But tel me diccon what said ye knaue: let me here it anon.

Diccon:
The horson talked to mee. I know not well of what
One whyle his tonge it ran and paltered of a Cat,
Another whyle he stamered styll vppon a Rat,
Last of all there was nothing but euery word
Chat, Chat,
But this I well perceyued before I wolde him rid,
Betweene Chat and the Rat and the Cat, the nedle is hyd,
Now wether Gyb our cat haue eate it in her mawe,
Or Doctor Rat our curat haue found it in the straw,
Or this dame chat your neighbour haue stollen it, god hee knoweth
But by ye morow at this time, we shal learn how the inatter goeth

Hodge:
Canst not learn to night man, seest not what is here,

Pointyng behind to his torne breeches.:

Diccon:
Tys not possyble to make it sooner appere,

Hodge:
Alas Diccon then chaue no shyft but least ich tary to longe
Hye me to Sym glouers shop, theare to seeke for a Thonge,
Ther with this breech to tatche and tye as ich may.

Diccon:
To inorow hodg if we chaunce to meete, shalt see what I will say.


The ii. Acte. The iiii. Sceane.
Diccon. Gammer.

Diccon:
Now this gere must torward goe, for here my gammer commeth,
Be still a while & say nothing, make here a litle romth.

Gammer:
Good lord, shall neuer be my lucke my neele agayne to spye?
Alas the whyle tys past my helpe, where tis still it must lye.

Diccon:
Now Iesus gammer gurton, what driueth you to this sadnes:
I feare me by my conscience you will sure fall to madnes.

Gammer:
Who is that, what Diccon chaue lost man fye fye.

Diccon:
Mary fy on them yt be worthy, but what shuld be your troble,

Gammer:
A1as the more ich thinke on it, my sorow it waxeth doble
My goodly tossing sporyars neele, chaue lost ich wot not where.

Diccon:
Your neele whan?

Gammer:
My neele (alas ich myght full ill it spare,
As god him selfe he knoweth nere one besyde chaue.

Diccon:
If th s be all good gammer, I warrant you all is saue.

Gammer:
Why know you any tydings which way my neele is gone?

Diccon:
Yea that I do doubtlesse, as ye shall here anone,
A see a thing this inatter toucheth within these .xx. howres,
Euen at this gate, before my face, by a neyghbour of yours,
She stooped ine downe, and vp she toke a nedle or a pyn:
I durst be sworne it was euen yours, by all my mothers kyn.

Gammer:
It was iny neele diccon ich wot, for here euen by this poste
Ich sat, what time as ich vp starte, and so my neele it loste:
Who was it leiue son? speke ich pray the, & quickly tell me that?

Diccon:
A suttle queane as any in thys Towne your neyghboure here dame Chat.

Gammer:
Dame chat diccon let me be gone, chil thyther in post haste.

Diccon:
Take my councell yet or ye go, for feare ye walke in wast,
It is a inurrion crafty drab and froward to be pleased,
And ye take not the better way our nedle yet ye lose it:
For when she tooke it vp euen here before your doores
What soft dame chat (quoth I) that same is none of yours
Auant (quoth she) syr knaue, what pratest thou of that I fynd:
I wold y hadst kist me I wot whear: (she inent I know behind)
And home she went as brag, as it had ben a bodelouce,
And I after as bold, as it had ben, the goodinan of the house:
But there and ye had hard her, how she began to scolde
The tonge it went on patins, by hym that judas solde,
Ech other worde I was a knaue, and you a hore of hores,
Because I spake in your behalfe, and sayde the neele was yours.

Gammer:
Gogs bread, and thinks ye callet thus to kepe my neele me fro?

Diccon:
Let her alone, and she minds non other but euen to dresse you so

Gammer:
By the masse chil rather spend the cote that is on my backe
Thinks the false quean by such a slyght, that chill my neele lacke

Diccon:
Slepe not your gere I counsell you, but of this take good hede
Let not be knowen I told you of it, how well soeuer ye spede.

Gammer:
Chil in Diccon a cleene aperne to take, and set before me,
And ich may my neele once see, chil sure remember the


The ii. Acte. The v. Sceane.
Diccon.

Diccon:
HEre will the sporte begin, if these two once may meete.
Their chere durst lay money will proue scarsly sweete
My gammer sure entends, to be vppon her bones,
With staues, or with clubs, or els with coble stones.
Dame Chat on the other syde, it she be far behynde
I am right far deceiued she is geuen to it of
He that may tarry by it a whyle, and that but shorte
I warrant hym trust to it, he shall see all the sporte
Into the towne will I, my frendes to vysit there
And hether straight againe to see thend of this gere
In the meane time felowes, pype vpp your fiddles,
I saie take them
And let your freyndes here such mirth as ye can make them.


The iii. Acte. The i. Sceane.
Hodge.

Hodge:
SYm glouer yet gramercy, chain meetlye well sped now,
Thart euen as good a felow as euer kyste a cowe,
Here is a thonge in dede, by ye masse though ich speake it
Tom tankards great bald curtal, I thinke could not breake it
And when he spyed my neede to lie so straight and hard,
Hays lent me here his naull, to set the gyb for-ward,
As for my Gammers neele, the flyenge feynd go weete,
Chill not now go to the doore againe with it to meete:
Chould make shyfe good inough and chad a candels ende,
The cheefe hole in my breeche, with these two chil amende.


The iii. Acte. The ii. Sceane.
Gammer. Hodge.

Gammer:
HOw Hodge, mayst nowe be glade, cha newes to tell thee
Ich knowe who hais my neele, ich trust soone shalt it see

Hodge:
The deuyll thou does, hast hard gammer in deede, or doest but iest

Gammer:
Tys as true as steele Hodge.

Hodge:
Why, knowest well where dydst leese it?

Gammer:
Ich know who found it, and tooke it vp shalt see or it be longe.

Hodge:
Gods mother dere, if that be true, farwel both naule an thong
But who hais it gammer say on: chould faine here it disclosed.

Gammer:
That false fixen, that same dame Chat, that counts her selfe so honest.

Hodge:
Who tolde you so:

Gammer:
That same did Diccon the bedlam, which saw it done.

Hodge:
Diccon: it is a vengeable knaue gammer, tis a bonable horson,
Can do mo things then that els cham deceyued euill:.
By the masse ich saw him of late cal vp a great blacke deuill,
O the knaue cryed ho, ho he roared and he thundred,
And yead bene here, cham sure yould murrenly ha wondred.

Gammer:
Was not thou afraide Hodge to see him in this place :

Hodge:
No, and chad come to me, chould haue laid him on the face,
Chould haue promised him

Gammer:
But Hodge, had he no hornes to pushe:

Hodge:
As long as your two armes, saw ye neuer Fryer
Rushe
Painted on a cloth, with a side long cowes tayle
And crooked clouen feete, and many a hoked nayle?
For al the world (if I shuld iudg) chould recken him his brother
Loke euen what face Frier Rush had, the deuil had such another

Gammer:
Now Iesus mercy hodg, did diccon in him bring:

Hodge:
Nay gammer (heare me speke) chil tel you a greater thing,
The deuil (when diccon had him, ich hard him wondrous weel)
Sayd plainly (here before vs), that dame chat had your neele.

Gammer:
Then let vs go, and aske her wherfore she minds to kepe it,
Seing we know so much, tware a madnes now to slepe it.

Hodge:
Go to her gammer, see ye not where she stands in her doores
Byd her geue you the neele, tys none of hers but yours.


The iii. Acte. The iii. Sceane.
Gammer. Chat Hodge.

Gammer:
Dame Chat cholde praye the fair, let me haue yt is mine
Chil not this twenty yeres take one fart that is thyne
Therfore giue me mine owne & let me liue besyde the

Chat:
Why art thou crept from home hether, to mine own doores to chide me.
Hence doting drab, auaunt, or I shall set the further.
Intends thou and that knaue, mee in my house to murther:

Gammer:
Tush gape not so on me woman, shalt not yet eate mee,
Nor all the frends thou hast, in this shall not intreate mee --
Mine owne goods I will haue, and aske the no beleue,
What woman: pore folks must haue right, thongh the thing you agreue.

Chat:
Giue thee thy right, and hang thee vp, wt al thy baggers broode
What wilt thou make me a theefe, and say I stole thy good:

Gammer:
Chi1 say nothing (ich warrant thee), but that ich can proue it well
Thou fet my good euen from my doore, cham able this to tel,

Chat:
Dyd I (olde witche) steale oft was thine: how should that thing be knowen:

Gammer:
Ich can not tel, but vp thou tokest it as though it had ben thine owne,

Chat:
Mary fy on thee, thou old gyb, with al my very hart.

Gammer:
Nay fy on thee yu rampe, thou ryg, with al that take thy parte.

Chat:
A vengeaunce on those lips yt laieth such things to my charge.

Gammer:
A vengeance on those callats hips, whose con-science is so large

Chat:
Come out Hogge

Gammer:
Come out hogge, and let me haue right.

Chat:
Thou arrant Witche.

Gammer:
Thou bawdie bitche, chil make thee cursse this night.

Chat:
A bag and a wallet.

Gammer:
A carte for a callet.

Chat:
Why wenest thou thus to preuaile,
I hold thee a grote,
I shall patche thy coate,

Gammer:
Thou warte as good kysse my tayle:
Thou slut, yu kut, yu rakes, yu iakes. will not shame make ye hide the

Chat:
Thou skald, thou bald, thou rotten, yu glotton,
I will no longer chyd the
But I will teache the to kepe home.

Gammer:
Wylt thou drunken beaste.

Hodge:
Sticke to her gammer, take her by the head, chil warrant you thys feast.
Smyte I saye gammer,
Byte I say gammer,
I trow ye wyll be keene:.
Where be your nayls ? claw her by the iawes, pull me out bothe her eyen,
Gogs bones gammer, holde vp your head,

Chat:
I trow drab I shall dresse thee.
Tary yu knaue I hold the a grote, I shall make these hands blesse thee
Take yu this old hore for amends, & lerne thy tonge well to tame
And say thou met at this bickering, not thy fellow but thy dame.

Hodge:
Where is the strong stued hore, chil geare a hores marke,
Stand out ones way, that ich kyll none in the darke
Up gammer and ye be alyue, chil feyght now for us bothe,
Come no nere me thou scalde callet, to kyll the ich wer loth.

Chat:
Art here agayne thou hoddy peke, what doll bryng me out my spitte.

Hodge:
Chill broche thee wyth this, bim father soule, chyll coniure that foule
sprete:
Let dore stand Cock, why coms in deede? kepe dore yu horson boy.

Chat:
Stand to it yu dastard for thine eares, ise teche ye a sluttish toye.

Hodge:
Gogs woundes hore, chil make the auaunte, take heede Cocke, pull in the
latche,

Chat:
I faith sir loose breche had ye taried, ye shold haue found your match.

Gammer:
Now ware thy throte losell, thouse pay for al

Hodge:
Well said gammer by my soule,
Hoyse her, souse her, bounce her, trounce her, pull out her throte boule

Chat:
Comst behynd me thou withered witch, & I get once on foote
Thouse pay for all, yu old tarlether, ile teach the what longs to it
Take ye this to make vp thy mouth, til time thou come by more

Hodge:
Up gammer stand on your feete, where is the olde hore?
Haith woulde chad her by the face choulde racke her callet crowne

Gammer:
A hodg, hodg, where was thy help, when fixen had me downe.

Hodge:
By the masse Gammer, but for my staffe Chat had gone nye to spyl you
Ich think the harlot had not cared, and chad not com to kill you but shall we
loose our neele thus ?

Gammer:
No Hodge chwarde lothe doo soo.
Thinkest thou chill take that at her hand, no hodg ich tell the no

Hodge:
Chold yet this fray wer wel take vp, & our own neele at home
Twill be my chaunce els some to kil, wher euer it be or whome

Gammer:
We haue a parson, (hodge thou knoes) a man estemed wise
Mast doctor Rat, chil for hym send, and let me here his aduise,
He will her shriue for all this gere, & geue her penaunce strait
Wese haue our neele, els dame chat comes nere wtin heauen gate

Hodge:
Ye mary gammer, yt ich thmk best: wyll you now for him send
The sooner Doctor Rat be here, the soner wese ha an ende,
And here gaminer Dyccons deuill, (as iche re-member well)
Of Cat, and Chat, and Doctor Rat a felloneu tale dyd tell,
Chold you forty pound, that is the way your neele to get againe.

Gammer:
Chil ha him strait call out ye boy wese make him take the payn

Hodge:
What coke I saye, coine out what deuill canst not here.

Cocke:
How now hodg ? how does gammer, is yet the wether cleare?
What wold chaue me to doo?

Gammer:
Come hether Cocke anon --
Hence swythe to Doctor Rat, hye the that thou were gone,
And pray hym come speke with me, cham not well at ease,
Shalt haue him at his chamber, or els at mother Bees,
Els seeke him at Hob fylchers shop, for as charde it reported
There is the best ale in al the towne, and now is most resorted.

Cocke:
And shal ich brynge hyin with me gainmer?

Gammer:
Yea, by and by good Cocke.

Cocke:
Shalt see that shalbe here anone, els let me haue one the docke

Hodge:
Now gammer shal we two go in, and tary for hys commynge
What deuill woman plucke vp your hart, & leue of al this glomming
So
Though she were stronger at ye first, as ich thinke ye did find her
Yet there ye drest the dronken sow, what time ye cam behind her

Gammer:
Nay, nay, cham sure she lost not all, for set thend to ye beginning
And ich doubt not, but she will make small bost of her winning.


The iii. Acte. The iiii. Sceane.
Tyb. Hodge Gammer. Cocke.

Tyb:
Se gammer, gammer, gib our cat, cham afraid what she ayleth
She standes me gasping behind the doore, as though her winde her faileth:
Now let ich doubt what gib shuld mean, yt now she doth so dote

Hodge:
Hold hether, ichould twenty pound, your neele is in her throte
Grope her ich say, me thmkes ich feele it, does not pricke your hand?

Gammer:
Ich can feele nothing

Hodge:
No, ich know thars not within this land
A muryner Cat then Gyb is, betwixt the tems and Tyne,
Shase as much wyt in her head almost as chaue in mine.

Tyb:
Faith shase eaten some thing, that wil not easely downe
Whether she gat it at home, or abrode in the towne
Iche can not tell

Gammer:
A1as ich feare it be some croked pyn,
And then farewell gyb, she is vndone, and lost al saue the skyn.

Hodge:
Tys your neele woman, I say gogs soule geue me a knyfe
And chil haue it out of her mawe, or els chal lose my lyfe.

Gammer:
What nay hodg, fy kil not our cat, tis al the cats we ha now.

Hodge:
By the masse dame Chat hays me so moued. iche care not what I kyll, ma god a
vowe.
Go to then Tyb to this geare, holde vp her tayle and take her,
Chil see what deuil is in her guts chil take ye pain es to rake her

Gammer:
Rake a Cat Hodge, what woldst thou do ?

Hodge:
What thinckst that cham not able?
Did not Tom Tankard rake his Curtal toore day standing in the stable.

Gammer:
Soft be content, lets here what newes Cocke bringeth from maist Rat

Cocke:
Gammer chaue ben ther as you bad, you wot wel about what
Twill not be long before he come, ich durst sweare of a booke
He byds you see ye be at home, and there for him to looke.

Gammer:
Where didst thou find him boy was he not wher
I told thee?

Cocke:
Yes, yes euen at hob filchers house, by him yt bought and solde me
A cup of ale had in his hand, and a crab lay in the fyer,
Chad much a do to go and coine, al was so ful of myer.
And Gammer one thing I can tel, Hob filchers naule was loste
And Doctor Rat found it againe, hard beside the doore poste,
I chould a penny can say something, your neele againe to fet

Gammer:
Cham glad to heare so much Cocke, then trust he wil not let,
To helpe vs herein best he can therfore tyl time he come
Let vs go in, if there be ought to get thou shalt haue some.


The iiii. Acte. The i. Sceane.
Doctor Rat. Gammer Gurton.

D. Rat:
A Man were better twenty times be a bandog & barke,
Then here among such a sort, be parish priest
Where he shal neuer be at rest, one pissing while a day
But he must trudge about the towne, this way, and that way,
Here to a drab, there to a theefe, his shoes to teare and rent
And that which is worst of al, at euery knaues commauindement
I had not sit the space, to drmke two pots of ale
But Gammer gurtons sory boy, was straite way at my taile,
And she was sicke, and I must come, to do I wot not what,
If once her fingers end but ake, trudge, call for Doctor Rat
And when I come not at their call, I only therby loose,
For I am sure to lacke therfore, a tythe pyg or a goose
I warrant you when truth is knowen, & told they haue their tale
The inatter where about I come, is not worth a half peny worth of ale,
Yet must I talke so sage and smothe, as though I were a glosier
Els or the yere come at an end, I shalbe sure the loser.
What worke ye gammer gurton? hoow here is your frend M. Rat.

Gammer:
A Sood M. Doctor cha trobled, cha trobled you, chwot wel that

D. Rat:
How do ye woman: be ye lustie, or be ye not wel at ease:

Gammer:
By gys inaster cham not sick, but yet chaue a disease.
Chad a foule turne now of late, chill tell it you by gigs.

D.Rat:
Hath your browne cow cast hir calfe, or your sandy sowe her pigs

Gammer:
No, but chad ben as good they had, as this ich wot weel.

D. Rat:
What is the matter ?

Gammer:
A1as alas, cha lost my good neele,
My neele I say, and wot ye what: a drab came by and spied it
And when I asked hir for the same, the filth flatly denied it.

D. Rat:
What was she that:

Gammer:
A dame ich warrant you: she began to scold and brawle
Alas, alas, come hether Hodge: this wretche can tell you all.


The iiii. Acte. The ii. Sceane.
Hodge. Doctor Rat. Gammer. Diccon. Chat.

Hodge:
God morow gaffer Vicar

D. Rat 2 Come on fellow let vs heare.:
Thy dame hath sayd to me, thou knowest of all this geare,
Lets see what thou canst saie.

Hodge:
Bym fay sir that ye shall,
What matter so euer here was done, ich can tell your maship all
My Gammer gurton heare see now, sat her downe at this doore, see now:
And as she began to stirre her, see now, her neele fell in the floore, see
now.
And while her staffe she tooke, see now, at Gyb her Cat to flynge, see now,
Her neele was lost in the floore, see now is not this a wondrous thing, see
now?
Then came the queane Dame Chat, see now to aske for hir blacke cup, see now:.

And euen here at this gate, see now: she tooke that neele vp, see now.
My Gammer then she yeede, see now hir neele againe to bring, see now
And was caught by the head see now is not this a wondrous thing, see now
She tare my Gammers cote see now and scratched hir by the face, see now
Chad thought shad stopt hir throte, see now is not this a wondrous case, see
now ?
When ich saw this, ich was wrothe see now and start betwene them twaine, see
now
Els ich durst take a booke othe, see now my Gammer had bene slaine, see now.

Gammer:
This is euen the whole matter, as Hodge has plainly tolde
And chould faine be quiet for my part, that chould
But helpe vs good master, beseech ye that ye doo
Els shal we both be beaten and lose our neele too

D. Rat:
What wold ye haue me to doo? tel me that I were gone
I will do the best that I can, to set you both at one
But be ye sure dame Chat hath this your neele founde --

Gammer:
Here comes the man that see hir take it vp of the ground,
Aske him your selfe master Rat if ye beleue not me
And helpe me to my neele, for gods sake and samt charitie.

D. Rat:
Come nere diccon and let vs heare, what thou can expresse.
Wilt yu be swome yu seest dame chat. this womans neele haue?

Diccon:
Nay by S. Benit wil I not, then might ye thmke me raue.

Gammer:
Why didst not yu tel me so euen here canst yu for shame deny it

Diccon:
I mary gammer. but I said I wold not abide by it,

D. Rat:
Will you say a thmg, and not sticke to it to trieit?

Diccon:
Stick to it quoth you master rat, mary sir I defyit,
Nay there is many an honest main, when he suche blastes hath blowne
In his freindes eares, he woulde be loth the same by him were knowne
If such a toy be vsed oft among the honestie
It may beseme a simple man, of your and my degree

D. Rat:
Then we be neuer the nearer, for all that you can tell,

Diccon:
Yes mary sir, if ye will do by mine aduise and counsaile,
If mother chat se al vs here, she knoweth how the matter goes
Therefore I red you three go hence, and within keepe close,
And I will into dame chats house, and so the matter vse,
That or you cold go twise to church, I warant you here news,
She shal looke wel about hir, but I durst lay a pledge,
Ye shal of gammers neele, haue shortly better knowledge.

Gammer:
Now gentle Diccon do so, and good sir let vs trudge.

D. Rat:
By the masse I may not tarry so long to be your iudge.

Diccon:
Tys but a litle while man, what take so much paine,
If I here no newes of it I will come sooner againe.

Hodge:
Tary so much, good master Doctor of your gentlenes.

D. Rat:
Then let vs hie vs inward, and Diccon speede thy busines.

Dicon:
Now sirs do you no more, but kepe my counsaile iuste,
And Doctor Rat shall thus catch, some good I trust,
But mother Chat my gossop, talke first with all I must:
For she must be chiefe captaine to lay the Rat in the dust.
God deuen dame Chat in faith, and wel met in this place.

Chat:
God deuen my friend Diccon, whether walke ye this pace?

Diccon:
By my truth euen to you, to learne how the world goeth,
Hard ye no more of the other matter, say me now by your troth

Chat:
O yes diccon, here the olde hoore, & hodge that great knaue
But in faith I would thou hadst sene, o lord I drest them braue
She bare me two or three souses behind in the nape of the necke
Till I made hir olde wesen, to answere againe kecke
And Hodge that dirty dastard, that at hir elbow standes,
If one paire of legs had not bene worth two paire of hands
He had had his bearde shauen, if my nayles wold haue serued
And not without a cause, for the knaue it well deserued.

Diccon:
By the masse I can the thank wench, yu didst so wel acquite the

Chat:
And thadst seene him Diccon, it wold haue made ye beshite the
For laughter. The horsen dolt at last caught vp a club,
As though he would haue slaine the master deuil Belsabub,
But I set him soone inwarde.

iccon:
O Lorde there is the thing
That Hodge is so offended, that makes him starte and flyng

Chat:
Why? makes the knaue any moyling, as ye haue sene or hard

iccon:
Euen now I sawe him last, like a mad man he farde,
And sware by heauen and hell, he would a wreake his sorowe
And leue you neuer a hen on hue, by viii. of the clock to morow,
Therfore marke what I say, and my wordes see that ye trust
Your hens be as good as dead, if ye leaue them on the ruste.

Chat:
The knaue dare as wel go hang himself, as go vpon my ground

Diccon:
We1 yet take hede I say, I must tel you my tale round,
Haue you not about your house, behind your fumace or leade.
A hole where a crafty knaue, may crepe in for neade?

Chat:
Yes by the masse, a hole broke down, euen wtin these ii. dayes.

Diccon:
Hodge, he intendes this same night, to slip in there awayes.

Chat:
O christ that I were sure of it, in faith he shuld haue his mede.

Diccon:
Watch wel, for the knaue wil be there as sure as is your crede
I wold spend my selfe a shilling: to haue him well.

Chat:
I am as glad as a woman can be, of this thing to here tell
By gogs bones when he commeth, now that I know the matter
He shal sure at the first skip, to leape in scalding water:
With a worse turne besides, when he will, let him come.

Diccon:
I tell you as my sister, you know what meaneth mum,
Now lacke I but my doctor, to play his part againe.
And lo where he commeth towards, Peraduenture to his paine.

D. Rat:
What good newes Diccon? fellow, is mother chat at home,

Diccon:
She is syr, and she is not, but it please her to whome:
Yet did I take her tardy, as subtle as she was.

D. Rat:
The thing that thou wentst for, hast thou brought it to passe?

Diccon:
I haue done that I haue done, be it worse, be it better.
And dame Chat at her wyts ende, I haue almost set her.

D. Rat:
Why hast thou spied the neele quickly I pray thee tell

Diccon:
I haue spyed it in faith sir, I handled my selfe so well,
And yet the crafty queane, had almost take my trumpe.
But or all came to an ende, I set her in a dumpe:

D. Rat:
How so I pray thee Diccon?

Diccon:
Mary syr will ye heare?
She was clapt downe on the backside, by cocks mother dere
And there she sat sewing a halter, or a bande,
With no other thing saue gammers nedle in her hande,
As soone as any knocke, if the filth be in doubte,
She needes but once puffe, and her candle is out:.
Now I sir knowing of euery doore the pin,
Came nycely, and said no worde, till time I was within,
And there I sawe the neele, euen with these two eyes,
Who euer say the contrary, I will sweare he lyes.

D. Rat:
O Diccon that I was not there, then in thy steade.

Diccon:
Well, if ye will be ordred, and do by my reade,
I will bring you to a place, as the house standes.
Where ye shall take the drab, with the neele in her handes

D. Rat:
For Gods sake do so Diccon, and I will gage my gowne
To geue thee a full pot, of the best ale in the towne,

Diccon:
Fo11ow me but a litle, and marke what I will say.
Lay downe your gown beside you, go to, come on your way.
Se ye not what is here? a hole wherin ye inay creepe
Into the house, and sodenly vnwares among them leape,
There shal ye finde the Bitchfox, and the neele together
Do as I bid you man, come on your wayes hether.

D. Rat:
Art thou sure diccon, the swil tub standes not here aboute.

Diccon:
I was within my selfe man euen now, ther is no doubt,
Go softly, mike no noyse giue me your foote sir John,
Here will I waite wpon you tyl you come out anone.

D. Rat:
Helpe Diccon, out alas, I shal be slaine among them

Diccon:
If they giue you not the nedle, tel them that ye will hang them
Ware that, hoow my wenches, haue ye caught the Fuxe,
That vsed to make reuel, among your hennes and
Cocks:.
Saue his life yet for his order. though he susteine some paine
Gogs bread, I am afraide, they wil beate out his braine

D. Rat:
Wo worth the houre that I came heare.
And wo worth him that wrought this geare,
A sort of drabs and queanes haue me blest,
Was euer creature halfe so euill drest?
Who euer it wrought, and first did inuent it,
He shall I warrant him, erre long repent it,
I will spend all I haue without my skinne
But he shall be brought to the plight I am in,
Master Bayly I trow and he be worth his eares,
Will snaffle these murderers and all that them beares,
I will surely neither byte nor suppe
Till I fetch him hether this matter to take vp


The v. Acte. The i. Sceane,
Master Bayly. Doctor Rat.

Bailie:
I Can perceiue none other, I speke it from my hart
But either ye ar in al the fault or els in ye greatest part

D. Rat:
If it be counted his fault, besides all his greeues
When a poore man is spoyled: and beaten among theeues?
Then I confesse my fault herein, at this season,
But I hope you wil not iudge so much against reason.

Baily:
And me thinkes by your owne tale, of all that ye name,
If any plaid the theefe you were the very same.
The women they did nothing, as your words make probation
But stoutly withstood your forcible inuasion,
If that a theefe at your window, to enter should begin,
Wold you hold forth your hand, and helpe to pull him in:.
Or you wold kepe him out: I pray you answere me.

D. Rat:
Mary kepe him out, and a good cause why:.
But I am no theefe sir but an honest learned
Clarke,

Baily:
Yea, but who knoweth that, when he meets you in the darke
I am sure your learning shines not out at your nose,
Was it any maruaile, though the poore woman arose
And start vp, being afraide of that was in hir purse
Me thinke you may be glad that your lucke was no worse.

D. Rat:
Is not this euill ynough, I pray you as you thinke,

Showing his broken head.:

Baily:
Yea but a man in the darke, if chaunces do wincke,
As soone he smites his father, as any other man,
Because for lacke of hght, disceme him he ne can,
Might it not haue ben your lucke, wt a spit to haue ben slaine.

D. Rat:
I thinke I am litle better, my scalpe is clouen to the braine,
If there be all the remedy, I know who beares the knockes

Baily:
By my troth and well worthy, besides to kisse the stockes
To come in on the backe side, when ye might go about,
I know non such, vnles they long to haue their braines knockt out

D. Rat:
Well, wil you be so good sir, as talke with danie Chat ?
And know what she intended. I aske no more but that.

Bayly:
Let her be called fellow because of master doctor,
I warrant in this case, she wil be hir owne Froctor,
She will tel hir owne tale in metter or in prose,
And byd you seeke your remedy, and so go wype your nose.


The v. Acte. The ii Sceane,
M. Bayly. Chat. D Rat. Gammer. Hodge. Diccon.

Bayly:
DAme Chat, master doctor vpon you hcre complained
That you & your maides shuld him much mis-order.
And taketh many an oth, that no word he fained,
Laying to your charge, how you thought him to murder:
And on his part againe, that same inan saith furder
He neuer offended you in word nor intent,
To heare you answer hereto, we haue now for you sent.

Chat:
That I wold haue murdered him, fye on him wretch,
And euil mought he thee for it, our Lord I besech,
I will swere on al the bookes that opens and shuttes
He faineth this tale out of his owne guttes,
For this seuen weeks with me, I am sure he sat not downe,
Nay ye haue other minions, in the other end of the towne,
Where ye were liker to catch such a blow,
Then any where els, as farre as I know.

Baily:
Belike then master Doctor, yon stripe there ye got not?

D. Rat:
Thinke you I am so mad, that where I was bet,
I wot not?
Will ye beleue this queane, before she hath tryd it?
It is not the first dede she hath done and after-ward denide it.

Chat:
What man, will you say I broke your head?

D. Rat:
How canst thou proue the contrary?

Chat:
Nay, how prouest thou that I did the deade

D. Rat:
To plainly, by S. Hary.
This profe I trow may serue, though I no word spoke.

Showing his broken head.:

Chat:
Bicause thy head is broken, was it I that it broke?
I saw thee Rat I tel thee, not once within this fortnight,

D. Rat:
No mary, thou sawest me not, for why thou hadst no light,
But I felt thee for al the darke, beshrew thy smothe cheekes,
And thou groped me, this wil declare, any day this six weekes

Showing his heade.

Baily:
Answere me to this M. Rat, when caught you this harme of yours?

D. Rat:
A while a go sir, god he knoweth, wtin les then these ii. houres.

Baily:
Dame Chat was there none with you: (confesse I faith) about that season.
What wonian, let it be what it wil, tis neither felony nor treason

Chat:
Yes by my faith master Bayly, there was a knaue not farre
Who caught one good Philup on the brow, with a dore barre
And well was he worthy, as it semed to mee,
But what is that to this inan, since this was not hee

Baily:
Who was it then? lets here.

D. Rat:
A1as sir, aske you that?
Is it not made plain inough (by the owne mouth of daine chat)
The time agreeth, my head is broken, her tong can not lye,
Onely vpon a bare, nay she saith it was not I.

Chat:
No mary was it not indeede ye shal here by this one thing,
This after noone a frend of mine, for good wil gaue me warning
And bad me wel loke to my ruste, and al niy Capons pennes,
For if I toke not better heede, a knaue wold haue my hennes,
Then I to saue my goods, toke so much pains as him to watch
And as good fortune serued me, it was my chaunce him for to catch
What strokes he bare away, or other what was his gaines
I wot not, but sure I am, he had something for his paines

Baily:
Yet telles thou not who it was.

Chat:
Who it was a false theefe,
That came like a false Foke, my pullaine to kil and mischeefe.

Baily:
But knowest thou not his name?

Chat:
I know it but what than,
It was that crafty cullyon Hodge my gammer gurtons man.

Bailie:
Ca1 me the knaue hether, he shal sure kysse the stockes.
I shall teach him a lesson, for filching hens or cocks

D. Rat:
I maruaile master bayly, so bleared be your eyes.
An egge is not so ful of meate, as she is ful of lyes:.
When she hath playd this pranke, to excuse al this geare,
She layeth the fault in such a one, as I know was not there.

Chat:
Was he not thear loke on his pate, that shalbe his witnes.

D. Rat:
I wold my head were half so hole, I wold seeke no redresse.

Baily:
God bless you gammer Gurton.

Gammer:
God dylde you master mine. wtin thy house, hodge, a ser-uant of thine.
They tel me that busy knaue, is such a filching one,
That Hen, Fig, goose or capon, thy neighbour can haue none,

Gammer:
By god cham much ameued, to heare any such reporte:
Hodge was not wont ich trow, to baue him in that sort.

Chat:
A theeuisher knaue is not on liue, more filching. nor more false
Many a truer man then he, hase hanged vp by the halse
And thou his dame of al his theft, thou art the sole receauer
For hodge to catch, and thou to kepe, I neuer knew none better

Gammer:
Sir reuerence of your masterdome, and you were out adoore,
Chold be so bolde for al hir brags, to cal hir arrant whoore,
And ich knew Hodge so bad as tow, ich wish me endlesse sorow
And chould not take the pains, to hang him vp before to morow?

Chat:
What haue I stolne from the or thine: thou ilfauored olde trot.

Gammer:
A great deale more (by Gods blest,) then cheuer by the got,
That thou knowest wel I neade not say it.

Baily:
Stoppe there I say,
And tel me here I pray you, this matter by the way:.
How chaunce hodge is not here him wold I faine haue had.

Gammer:
Alas sir, heel be here anon, ha be hapdled to bad.

Chat:
Master bayly, sir ye be not such a foole wel I know,
But ye perceiue by this lingring, there is a pad in the straw.

Thinking that Hodg, his head was broke,:

and that gammer:

Wold not let him come before them.:

Gammer:
Chi1 shew you his face, ich warrant the, now where he is.

Bailie:
Come on fellow it is tolde me thou art a shrew iwysse.
Thy neighbours hens yu takest, and playes the two legged foxe
Their chikens & their capons to, & now and then their Cocks.

Hodge:
Ich defy them al that dare it say, cham as true as the best

Baily:
Wart not yu taken within this houre, in dame chats hens nest?

Hodge:
Taken there? no master chold not dot, for a house ful of gold.

Chat:
Thou or the deuil in thy cote, sweare this I dare be bold

D. Rat:
Sweare me no swearing quean, the deuill he geue the sorow,
Is not worth a gnat, thou canst sweare till to morow,
Where is the harme he hath? shew it by gods bread,
Ye beat him with a witnes, but the stripes light on my head.

Hodge:
Bet me? gogs blessed body, chold first ich trow haue burst the
Ich thinke and chad my hands loose callet chould haue crust the.

Chat:
Thou shitten knaue I trow yu knowest ye ful weight of my fist
I am fowly deceiued, onles thy head & my doore bar kyste.

Hodge:
Hold thy chat whore yu criest so loude, can no man els be hard

Chat:
Well knaue, & I had the alone, I wold surely rap thy costard.

Bayly:
Sir answer me to this, is thy head whole or broken?

Chat:
Yea master Bayly, blest be euery good token.

Hodge:
Is my head whole? ich warrant you, tis neither scuruy nor scald
What you foule beast, does think tis cither pild or bald.
Nay ich thanke god: chil not for al that thou maist spend
That chad one scab on my narse, as brode as thy fingers end

Bayly:
Come nearer heare.

Hodge:
Yes That ich dare

Bayly:
By our Lady here is no harme,
Hodges head is hole ynough, for al dame Chats charme.

Chat:
By gogs blest, how euer the thing he clockes or smolders,
I know the blowes he bare away, either wt head or shoulders,
Camest yu not knaue within this houre, crepmg mto my pens
And there was caught within my hous, gropig among my hens.

Hodge:
A plage both on thy hens & the, a carte whore, a carte,
Chould I were hanged as hie as a tree, & chware as false as yu art
Geue my gammer again her washical, yu stole away in thy lap.

Gammer:
Yea maister baily there is a thmg, you know not on may hap
This drab she kepes away my good, ye deuil he might her snare
Ich pray you that ich might haue, a right action on her.

Chat:
Haue I thy good old filth, or any such old sowes?
I am as true, I wold thou knew, as skin betwene thy browes

Gammer:
Many a truer hath ben hanged, though you escape the daunger

Chat:
Thou shalt answer by gods pity, for this thy foule slaunder

Baily:
Why, what can ye charge hir withal? to say so, ye do not well.

Gammer:
Mary a vengeance to hir hart, yt whore hase stoln my neele.

Chat:
Thy nedle old witch, how so? it were almes thy scul to knock
So didst thou say, the other day, that I had stolne thy Cock
And rosted him to my breakfast, which shal not be forgotten,
The deuil pul out thy lying tong, and teeth that be so rotten

Gammer:
Geue me my neele, as for my cocke, chould be very loth
That chuld here tel he shuld hang, on thy fals faith and troth.

Baily:
Your talke is such, I can scarse learne who shuld be most in fault bred &
salt

Baily:
Kepe ye content a while, se that your tonges ye holde,
Me thinkes you shuld remembre, this is no place to scolde,
Nedle had?

Gammer:
To name you sir the party, chould not be very glad.

Baily:
Yea but we must nedes heare it, & therfore say it boldly.

Gammer:
Such one as told the tale, full soberly and coldly,
What time this drunken gossip, my faire long neele vp tooke
Diccon (master) the Bedlam, cham very sure ye know him.

Bailie:
A false knaue by Gods pitie, ye were but a foole to trow him,
I durst auenture wel the price of my best cap,
That when the end is knowen, all wil turue to a iape,
Tolde he not you that besides she stole your
Cocke that tyde?

Gammer:
No master no indede, for then he shuld haue lyed,
My cocke is I thanke Christ, safe and wel a fine

Chat:
Yea but that ragged colt, that whore that tyb of thine
Said plainly thy cocke was stolne, & in my house was eaten,
That lying cut is lost, that she is not swinged and beaten,
And yet for al my good name, it were a small amendes
I picke not this geare (hearst thou) out of my fingers endes
But he that hard it told me, who thou of late didst naine
Diccon whom al men knowes, it was the very same.

Baily:
This is the case, you lost your nedle about the dores
And she answeres againe, she hase no cocke of yours,
Thus in your talke and Action, from that you do intend,
She is whole fiue inile wide, froin that she doth defend.
Will you saie she hath your Cocke?

Gammer:
No mery sir that chil not,

Bayly:
Will you confesse hir neele?

Chat:
Will I? no sir I will not

Bayly:
Then there lieth all the matter.

Gammer:
Soft master by the way,
Ye know she could do litle, and she cold not say nay.

Bayly:
Yea but he that made one he about your Cock stealing,
Wil not sticke to make another, what time lies be in dealing
Tweene, the ende wil proue, this brawle did first arise,
Upon no other ground, but only Diccons lyes.

Chat:
Though some be lyes as you belike haue espyed them,
Yet other some be true, by proof I haue wel tryed them.

Bayly:
What other thing beside this dame Chat.

Chat:
Mary syr euen this,
The tale I tolde before, the selfe same tale it was his,
He gaue me like a frende, warning against my losse,
Els had my hens be stolne, eche one, by Gods crosse:
He tolde me Hodge wold come, and in he came
But as the matter chaunsed, with greater hast then speede,
This truth was said, and true was found, as truly
I report.

Bayly:
If Doctor Rat be not deceiued, it was of another sort.

D. Rat:
By Gods mother thou and he, be a cople of suttle foxes,
Betweene you and Hodge, I beare away the boxes,
Did not diccon apoynt the place, wher yu shuldst stand to mete him

Chat:
Yes by the masse, & if he came, bad me not sticke to speet hym.

D. Rat:
Gods sacrament the villain knaue hath drest vs round about,
He is the cause of all this brawle, that dyrty shitten loute:.
When gammer gurton here coinplained, & made a ruful mone
I heard him sweare yt you had gotten, hir nedle that was gone,
And this to try he furder said, he was ful loth how be it
He was content with small adoe, to bring me where to see it.
And where ye sat, he said ful certain, if I wold folow his read
Into your house a priuy way, he wold me guide and leade,
And where ye had it in your hands, sewing about a clowte,
And set me in the backe hole, therby to finde you out
And whiles I sought a quietnes, creping vpon my knees,
I found the weight of your dore bar, for my reward and fees,
Such is the lucke that some men gets, while they begin to mel
In setting at one such as were out, minding to make al wel.

Hodge:
Was not wel blest gammer, to scape y scoure. & chad ben there
Then chad ben drest be like, as ill by the masse, as gaffar vicar

Bayly:
Mary sir, here is a sport alone, I loked for such an end
If diccon had not playd the knaue, this had ben sone amend
My gammer here he made a foole, and drest hir as she was
And goodwife Chat he set to scole, till both partes cried alas,
And D. Rat was not behind, whiles Chat his crown did pare,
I wold the knaue had ben starke blind, if hodg had not his share.

Hodge:
Cham meetly wel sped alredy amongs, cham drest like a coult
And chad not had the better wit, chad bene made a doult

Bayly:
Sir knaue make hast diccon were here, fetch him where euer he bee

Chat:
Fie on the villaine, fie, fie, yt makes vs thus agree,

Gammer:
Fie on him knaue, with al my hart, now fie, and fie againe.

D.Rat:
Now fie on him may I best say, whom he hath almost slaine.
Lo where he commeth at hand, belike hewas not fare
Diccon heare be two or three, thy company can not spare.

Diccon:
God blesse you, and you may be blest so many al at once

Chat:
Come knaue, it were a good deed to geld the by cockes bones
Seest not thy handiwarke? sir Rat can ye for-bearn him?

Diccon:
A vengeance on those hands lite, for my hands cam not nere hym
The horsen priest hath lift the pot, in some of these ale wyves chayres
That his head wolde not serue him, belyke to come downe the stayres.

Baily:
Nay soft, thou maist not play ye knaue, & haue this language to
If thou thy tong bridle a while, the better maist
Confesse the truth as I shall aske, and cease a while to fable.
And for thy fault I promise the, thy handlmg shalbe reasonable
Hast thou not made a lie or two, to set these two by the eares?

Diccon:
What if I haue? fiue hundred such haue I seene within these seuen yeares:
I am sory for nothing else but that I see not the sport
Which was betwene them when they met, as they then selues report

Bayly:
The greatest thing master rat, ye se how he is drest.

Diccon:
What deuil nede he be groping so depe, in good-wife Chats hes nest

Bayly:
Yea but it was thy drift to bring him into ye briars.

Diccon:
Gods bread, hath not such an old foole, wit to saue his eares?
He showeth himselfe herein ye see, so very a coke,
The Cat was not so madly alured by the Foxe,
To run into the snares, was set for him doubtlesse,
For he leapt in for myce, and this sir Iohn for madnes.

D. Rat:
Well and ye shift no better, ye losel, lyther, and lasye,
I will go neare for this, to make ye leape at a Dasye
In the kings name master Bayly, I charge you set him fast.

Diccon:
What fast at cardes, or fast on slepe? it is the thing I did last.

D. Rat:
Nay fast in fetters false varlet, according to thy deedes.

Bayly:
Master doctor ther is no remedy, I must intreat you needes
Some other kinde of punishment

D. Rat:
Nay by all Halowes,
His punishment if I may iudg, shalbe naught els but the gallous

Bayly:
That were to sore, a spiritual man to be so extreame.

D. Rat:
Is he worthy any better, sir how do ye iudge and deame?

Bayly:
I graunt him worthie punishment, but in no wise so great

Gammer:
It is a shame ich tel you plaine, for such false knaues intreat
He has almost vndone vs al, that is as true as steele:
And yet for al this great ado'cham neuer the nere iny neele.

Bayly:
Canst yu not say any thing to that diccon, with least or most?

Diccon:
Yea mary sir, thus much I can say wel, the nedle is lost,

Bayly:
Nay canst not thou tel which way, that nedle may be found

D1ccon:
No by my fay sir, though I might haue an hundred pound.

Hodge:
Thou her lickdish didst not say the neele wold be gitten ?

Diccon:
No hodge by the same token, you where that time beshitten?
For f eare of Hobgobling, you wot wel what I meane,
As long as it is sence, I feare me yet ye be scarce cleane

Bayly:
Wel master rat, you must both learne, & teach vs to forgeue
Since Diccon hath confession made, & is so cleane shreue
If ye to me conscent, to amend this heauie chaunce,
I wil inioyne him here, some open kind of pen-aunce.
Of this condition, where ye know my fee is twenty pence
For the bloodshed, I am agreed with you here to dispence,
Ye shal go quite, so that ye graunt, the matter now to run,
To end with mirth emong vs al euen as it was begun.

Chat:
Say yea master vicar, & he shal sure confes to be your detter
And al we that be heare present, wil loue you much the better

D. Rat:
My partis the worst,but since you alhere on agree.
Go euen to master Bayly, let it be so for mee,

Bayly:
How saiest thou diccon, art content this shal on me depend

Diccon:
Go to M. Bayly say on your mind, I know ye are my frend?

Bayly:
Then marke ye wel, to recompence this thy former action
Because thou hast offended al, to make them satisfaction,
Before their faces, here kneele downe, & as I shal the teach
For thou shalt take on othe, of hodges leather breache
First for master Doctor, wpon paine of his cursse,
Where he wil pay for al, thou neuer draw thy pursse,
And when ye meete at one pot, he shal haue the first Pull,
And thou shalt neuer offer him the cup, but it be full
To goodwife chat thou shalt be swome, euen on the same wyse
If she refuse thy inoney once, neuer to offer it twise.
Thou shalt be bound by the same here, as thou dost take it
When thou maist drinke of free cost, thou neuer forsake it.
For gammer gurtons sake, againe sworne shalt hou bee
To helpe hir to hir nedle againe if it do lie in thee
And hkewise be bouind: by the vertue of that
To be of good abering to Gib hir great Cat
Last of al for Hodge, the othe to scanne,
Thou shalt neuer take him, for fine gentleman.

Hodge:
Come on fellow Diccon chalbe euen with thee now.

Bayly:
Thou wilt not sticke to do this Diccon I trow.

Diccon:
No by my fathers skin, my hand downe I lay it?
Loke as I haue promised, I wil not denay it,
But Hodge take good heede now, thou do not beshite me.

And gaue him a good blow on the buttocke.:

Hodge:
Gogs hart thou false villame dost thou bite me?

Bayly:
What Hodge doth he hurt the or euer he begin.

Hodge:
He thrust me into the buttocke, with a bodkin or a pin,
I saie Gammer, Gammer?

Gammer:
How now Hodge, how now.

Hodge:
Gods malt Gammer gurton.

Gammer:
Thou art inad ich trow.

Hodge:
Will you see the deuil Gammer.

Gammer:
The deuil sonne, god blesse vs.

Hodge:
Chould iche were hanged Gammer.

Gammer:
Mary so ye might dresse vs.

Hodge:
Chaue it by the masse Gammer

Gammer:
What not my neele Hodge?

Hodge:
Your Neele Gammer, your neele.

Gammer:
No fie, dost but dodge.

Hodge:
Cha found your neele Gammer, here in my hand be it

Gammer:
For al the loues on earth Hodge, let me see it.

Hodge:
Soft Gammer.

Gammer:
Good Hodge.

Hodge:
Soft ich say, tarie a while.

Gammer:
Nay sweete Hodge say truth, and do not me begile.

Hodge:
Cham sure on it ich warrant you -- it goes no more a stray

Gammer:
Hodge when I speake so faire: wilt stil say me nay

Hodge:
Go neare the light gammer, this wel in faith good lucke:
Chwas almost vndone -- twas so far in my buttocke

Gammer:
Tis min owne deare neele Hodge, sykerly I wot

Hodge:
Chani I not a good sonne gammer, cham I not,

Gammer:
Christs blessing light on thee, hast made me for euer

Hodge:
Ich knew that ich must finde it, els choud a had it neuer.

Chat:
By my troth Gossyp gurton, I am euen as glad
As though I mme owne selfe as good a turne had:.

Bayly:
And I by my concience, to see it so come forth,
Reioyce so much at it, as three nedles be worth.

D. Rat:
I am no whit sory to see you so reioyce.

Diccon:
Nor I much the gladder for al this noyce:
Yet say gramercy Diccon, for springing of the gaine

Gammer:
Grammercy Diccon twenty times, o how glad cham,
If that Chould do so much, your masterdome to come hether,
Master Rat, goodwife Chat, and Diccon together:
Cha but one halfpeny, as far as iche know it,
And chil not rest this night, till ich bestow it.
If euer ye loue me, let vs go in and drinke

Bayly:
I am content if the rest thmke as I thinke?
Master Rat it shalbe best for you if we so doo,
Then shall you warme you and dresse your self too.

Diccon:
Soft syrs, take vs with you, the company shalbe the more,
As proude coms behinde they say, as any goes before,
But now my good masters since we must be gone
And leaue you behinde vs, here all alon:
Since at our last ending thus mery we bee,
For Gammer Gurtons nedle sake, let vs haue a plaudytie.


Finis, Gurton. Perused and alowed, &c.

***12 Daily Journal

Today,,

My subject is Advance Listening and I did quiz without preparations ..
Its really shocked..
< LOL >

:XD

***11 Daily Journal

I just read a poetry for tomorrow, ,


Daffodils

By : William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.